


A Piece of Home

by AlexoftheBunker, CrazedPanda, ToscaRossetti



Series: Wayward Family [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bunker, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Spanking, mouth soaping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 114,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22229656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexoftheBunker/pseuds/AlexoftheBunker, https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda/pseuds/CrazedPanda, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToscaRossetti/pseuds/ToscaRossetti
Summary: After Sam, Dean, and John rescue them from a djinn, and themselves, four young women - Tosca, Panda, Edge, and Alex - move into the bunker with the Winchesters. They quickly become family and learn that with family comes love, trust, rules, and a healthy dose of discipline.It’s the first real Christmas in the bunker with their Wayward Family and everyone is excited. Well, almost everyone.
Series: Wayward Family [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600129
Comments: 161
Kudos: 74





	1. 12 days ‘til Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a collaboration of AlexoftheBunker and CrazedPanda, with substantial contributions from Toscarosetti and Edge_of_Clairvoyance. For the chapters in which their characters feature, they will be listed as co-authors.

The Impala's engine was still fading in the chill air of the garage. As Dean opened the door to help Edge gather up the bags full of their various purchases, he found himself reflecting on the changes a few months could bring. These wayward girls were quickly becoming family, coming out of their shells and worming their way into the Winchesters' hearts and lives as if they'd always been there.

He never would have guessed such a thing would be possible when they'd stumbled on the three wannabe hunters, woefully unprepared. They'd been just as much in need of rescuing as the poor girl the djinn had been feeding on. The four of them staying at the bunker was supposed to be temporary, just long enough the Winchesters' collective consciences could be clear - until they could arrange some way to be sure the girls wouldn't wind up dead within the week by their own stupidity.

But days turned to weeks, and it somehow seemed to the Winchesters like those girls had belonged there from the start – in the bunker and in their hearts. None of them wanted to return to the days of empty, sullen halls.

  
Then when they'd tried to go off following leads on their own, John gave them the ultimatum that they could stay, but they would either obey his rules or submit to his consequences - making it clear that the consequences for running off and almost getting themselves killed was a good old fashioned licking with John's belt. Surprisingly, Alex alone refused outright and would have left, if Dean hadn't talked to her.

In the end, she’d agreed to follow John's rules as long as he never laid a hand on her. Dean and Sam were in charge of carrying out her discipline as needed, and she and John mostly avoided each other. Alex was a bit of a wild card, but had a wicked eye for detail and was as brave as she was stubborn.

Dependable Edge was already quickly becoming an asset in the field. Her family had been in the life and she thought she had so much to prove.

Panda was sweet and tenderhearted. She wanted to be a hunter, and was eager to learn and help out where she could.

Tosca was still a mystery - she hadn't shared much of her life from before they'd found her strung up in that djinn's lair - but things were never boring with her around. She could have a temper, but as quick as it was to flare up, so was her impetuous kindness and generosity, and she had a killer work ethic.

That first spanking worked like a charm, steering the girls back on track. It didn't take long for the Winchesters to realize that consistent discipline did the girls a world of good. They thrived with the Winchesters’ care, love, and praise, but needed rules to abide by and consequences they could be sure would be delivered if the rules were broken.  
And look at them now. They were going to have an honest-to-God Christmas, for crying out loud! Even John 'Scrooge' Winchester himself was starting to get excited. Dean could tell, as much as he knew his dad would deny it if it asked, and pretend he was just going along with it for the girls' benefit.

Inside, the bunker kitchen was a disaster. Tosca had managed to keep her mess confined to her work space instead of her person, but Panda was wearing splotches of various cookie ingredients. Besides the batch of cookies in the oven and more on pans ready to go when they were done, Panda was mixing dough for yet another sweet that she insisted they had to have and Tosca was cutting out gingerbread shapes from the dough laid in front of her.

Dean and Edge swept into the kitchen, hands full of bags, heaving deep breaths and sporting cheeks red from the cold.

“We got eggnog for the cookies,” Edge cheerfully announced, “and more wrapping paper. I'll put that in the library.” She left with the two rolls of red and green paper while Dean put the eggnog and other groceries in the fridge.

He stole a cookie and dodged Panda jokingly threatening him with a spoon.

Dean was full of mock warning. “You better watch it! We got something else, too.” He produced a cheerful looking, instantly recognizable, elf toy from the final bag.

“An elf on the shelf?” Panda cracked up, “You're kidding me!”

“Nope!” Dean popped the “p” dramatically, “so you better behave or he’ll tell Santa on you.”

“Oh no, not that!” Panda put on a show of being serious. She took the elf and set him down on the counter, balancing a cookie on his knees and steadying it with his mittened hands. “Do you think he can be bribed?”

Edge peeked her head through the door. “Where’s Sam? It’s his turn to open the window on the Advent calendar and he forgot to. Again.”

“Pretty sure he said he’s going to the storage room to look for something,” Tosca said.

“Right. I’ll go find him. Panda, tomorrow it’s your window, you remember?”

“Mmmm, yeah, ‘course I do,” although it was pretty clear from Panda’s voice that she didn’t.

“Great!” Edge chirped as she vanished from the doorway.

A second later, Alex came rushing in. “Edge said there was eggnog?” But then she stopped, her gaze falling on the elf. Her smile quickly disappeared. “What the hell is that?”

Panda was oblivious to her change in mood for the moment and took the question at face value. “It's an elf on the shelf!!! It ‘sees you when you're sleeping’ and reports back to Santa whether you've been ‘naughty or nice’!”

Alex looked at the girls she now called sisters. They hadn’t been living together all that long, it was their first Christmas together. And the last thing she wanted was for it to start out like this. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” She turned to the man that had saved her, saved them. “Dean, you can’t seriously be thinking about putting that in up in the bunker.”

Panda's face fell a little and her voice was more subdued, “I thought it was cute, but I'm not the only person.”

Dean frowned, “Yes, I am. I thought it would be fun, and how about you cut back on the insults.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “It’s an opinion, Dean, not an insult. Come on, it's creepy! Seriously, Panda, can’t you see how creepy it is?” She turned to her sister at the oven. “Tosca, you have to agree with me.”

Tosca looked up from her gingerbread and shrugged, “I think they're great. It's super fun finding places to stick them and funny poses.”

Panda conceded, trying to keep the peace, “I guess I could see it being a little creepy . . .”

Tosca snorted, “That's part of the fun!”

Dean picked up the figurine a little possessively, discreetly palming the cookie in the process. “Look, no one's moving him except Sam and me. And he's staying.”

“Figures you wouldn’t care what I think,” Alex muttered under her breath. She turned to look Dean in the eye. “Fine. Have it your way. You always do.” She stormed out of the room and the next thing they all heard was the door to the girl’s bedroom slam shut.

* * *

Alex had barely made it to her bed with her journal in hand before hearing a firm knock on the door. She let out an exasperated breath. “What?”

Dean's voice came calm and no-nonsense. “We need to talk.”

No, Alex thought. Dean needed to talk. She didn’t have anything to say. She started writing and ignored the door.

Sam's voice cut through, “Alex, unless there's some reason, I suggest you come out or let us in.”

She froze at the sound of Sam’s voice. Ignoring Dean was one thing. Ignoring Sam was something else entirely. “Fine, whatever, come in,” she called, pulling her knees up as they came in.

Dean turned the armchair to face the bed and pulled it a little closer before sitting down. Alex couldn’t stop her heart from beginning to race, but at least it was Dean in the chair instead of Sam, who’d stayed back leaning against the wall. The brothers shared a look before turning back to her.

Dean cleared his throat, “Alex, I'm not sure what just happened, but how about you lose the attitude. We really don't want to have to get on you when we're supposed to be having a happy time with Christmas coming up, but if you don't shape up on your own, we're gonna have to address it. You wanna tell us what's going on?”

“Nope,” she said, popping the “p” dramatically. She didn’t look up, just kept writing.

They glanced at each other again. Sam shifted and nodded once. “Okay, that's fine, we're not going to force you to share, but neither are you going to be allowed to take it out on everyone. We don't want your Christmas to be miserable either, but if you can't check your behavior on your own, then we'll have to do it for you.”

Now she looked up, eyes narrowing with defiance. “What does that mean?”

Sam pushed away from the wall, arms folded across his chest, appearing even taller and stronger than he normally did. “It means, your actions back there were unacceptable, and if you keep this up you will get a spanking."

Dean interjected in a low growl. "And if that doesn't prompt you to start thinking before you speak and act, you'll be signing yourself up for daily maintenance spankings until I'm convinced your attitude’s improved, if that's what it'll take to get through to you. Is that clear enough?"

Alex looked at them, incredulous. “You’re going to spank me for not being happy? Screw you,” she said, as she got up. “I’m not signing up for anything.” She tossed her journal on the bed as she headed toward the door.

Dean shot up and stepped in front of her, holding his hand out like a traffic cop. “Whoa! We’re still talking here.”

Alex stared at his palm and quickly calculated the chance of it smacking her ass if she moved one more step. Nearly definite, she decided, so she simply cocked her hip out, folded her arms across her chest and waited for the lecture.

“You will not be punished for not being happy. You will be spanked…” Dean paused for emphasis and Alex couldn’t help the blush that rose in her cheeks. “...if you keep using it as an excuse for being rude and disrespectful. You are allowed to be sad, although none of us like that you're upset. You say you don't want to talk about it; fine, but that doesn't mean you get to treat everybody badly. No more free passes, this is your last warning.”

“All I said was that I didn’t like your stup-” She quickly stopped herself and took a breath. “Your lovely elf on a shelf. Maybe you’re the one overreacting here. I didn’t realize you and he were so close, Dean,” she added with a smirk, then turned to his brother. “Come on, Sam. You can’t tell me you’re okay with some creepy elf that may or may not be a cursed object, whose sole job is to spy on us. We live in a bunker, for goodness sake.”

Sam looked like he was barely containing an eye roll. “Cursed object? Really? I'll admit I don't see the point in it, but it's harmless and Dean seemed to think it would be fun for you girls; the other three like the idea. Sometimes we put up with things for family - especially for Christmas.”

Dean broke in, his frustration obvious. “This isn't even about the elf, it's about the tantrum you threw; stomping off and slamming the door when you were outvoted. Now, both Sam and I have warned you to get a handle on your behavior; how about a ‘yes sir’ . . . or do you wanna keep pushing?”

She wanted to keep pushing, she truly did. Because they thought they understood but the fact was they didn’t understand a damn thing. If it was just Dean, she was pretty sure he could get her to break, right there and then. But Sam … was a different story.

“Yes, sir,” she said. But how much she meant it was up for debate.

Dean gave her a hopeful look, “Okay, then. Thank you. Why don't you come out and get some cookies when you're ready?”

“Gingersnaps?”

Dean's mischievous smile broke through, “They've got a plateful cooling on the counter, and they'll pretend to be mad if you swipe em, it's great!”

Sam gave him a long-suffering look. “Dean.”

“They don't really mind. They're for eating, aren't they?”

“Tell ya what, Dean.” Alex grinned. “You swipe. I’ll watch.”

Sam shook his head at his brother in mock disapproval, “I just hope I get to watch when Panda nails him with that spoon.”

“Me too!” Alex said, bounding out of the room. She’d deal with that stupid elf tomorrow. Today, she just wanted to see her sister give Dean a taste of his own medicine.


	2. 11 days ‘til Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, commenting, and for your excitement for our little AU. 
> 
> Just to clarify the backstory a little - Edge, Alex, and Panda were friends with various degrees of experience “in the life.” They learned of a girl caught by a djinn and discovered Tosca already in tremendous trouble. But, with little experience, once they got there, they found themselves in trouble too, and the Winchesters end up saving all four of them. 
> 
> We learn later that, for some reason, Alex had gone hoping to be caught by the djinn, so she could live in their happy dream world. Why? Well, that’s one of the things we come to learn through this story.

* * *

Alex got up early, a nightmare jolting her awake, a not too uncommon occurrence for her, especially this time of year. She dressed and went down to the kitchen, grabbed a protein bar then headed to her sanctuary. The library.

It was her favorite place in the otherwise drab and militaristic bunker the Winchesters called home. Sam had packed it full of every book a hunter could possibly want to read, fiction and non-fiction. She grabbed her favorite off the bookshelf, Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos Tales, and settled into the brown leather armchair she loved, not noticing until that moment, the elf, nestled between two books on the shelf beside her.

She nearly jumped, feeling her blood pressure rise, a rush of adrenaline and anger flowing through her. She left her book on her chair and stood, walking over to the elf. She grabbed it, almost throwing it across the room, but she quickly stopped herself. Two could play at this game. It was one thing if Dean had wanted to hide it somewhere innocuous, like in the war room. But the library was her place and he knew it.

She thought for a minute, then took it to the store room, stuffing it in one of the desk drawers. Closing the door quietly behind her, her hands almost shaking, she went back to the library, back to her arm chair, curled up and lost herself inside her book.

* * *

An angry holler rang through the bunker, bringing a jolt of adrenaline to everyone who heard it. “GIRLS!”  
  
There was no mistaking what that meant. Someone was in for a spanking.

Alex had no doubt it was her. She’d known the minute she’d hid that elf away that she’d be trading the thing for a spanking. Dean had nearly promised her that after all. But as much as she didn’t want to feel the sting of Dean’s hand, she wanted that Christmas elf staring at her for the next twelve days even less.

A few seconds later, Alex's phone chimed. It was a group text Sam had sent to all four of them, “ _Girls, report to the library, immediately._ ”

Her heart stopped. Dean she could handle, but Sam was a whole different ballgame and it made her think twice about obeying. Running, though, would be even worse, she knew that from experience. So with the threat of punishment pulsing through her veins, Alex took a deep breath, swallowed her fear, and tried not to drag her feet to the library. 

Sam's voice could be clearly heard as she neared the room, “Dean, calm down, we'll get to the bottom of this. No one hurt your toy, and if they did, they'll be replacing it.” He sounded like he was trying to placate Dean while rolling his eyes behind his brother's back at the same time.

Stepping just inside, Alex could see the people that she now called her family. The third family she’d had in her not long life. The truth was, she wasn’t even sure what the word meant anymore.

Amber eyes blinking nervously, Edge was already standing in front of Sam at almost perfect attention. Panda and Tosca, no doubt eager to not be the ones in trouble, ran in from the other end of the room. Sam and Dean stood in the middle waiting; Dean fuming, Sam seemingly calm, but demeanor grim. Alex knew him well enough to know he wasn't going to be saving her ass, but maybe he was supposed to temper some of Dean's fury. She wished more than anything he wasn't there to try.

Sam was carefully controlled as he evenly passed his eyes over each of them. Dean's suspicious gaze fell on Alex as soon as she appeared, his eyebrows narrowing. Alex leaned against the door frame, crossing her arms, staring back in challenge. 

Sam was the one who spoke up, though. “Over here please, all of you.” He pointed in front of them. He wasn't looking at Alex, but since the other three were already more or less lined up looking nervous and uncomfortable, it was obviously directed at her.

Alex lowered her arms, flexing her fingers to stop them from curling into nervous fists as her eyes shifted from Dean to Sam, and she joined her sisters dutifully standing in front of the brothers. 

Now Sam did meet her gaze briefly and gave her a small nod, acknowledging her obedience. He addressed the room, “It seems the elf is missing from its place, despite Dean giving clear orders he and I are the only ones allowed to touch it.”

Alex tried and failed to keep herself from rolling her eyes. 

Dean sputtered, obviously having already decided she was guilty, but Sam looked pointedly at him until he fell silent. He continued, “I'm going to ask each of you if you took it, or touched it, or know where it might have been misplaced. I expect you to answer honestly.”

Alex thought to herself that Sam would have been a good kindergarten teacher as he stood there treating them all like five year olds. She had taken it. They knew she had taken it. And yet they were going to make them all go through this silly charade. 

Suddenly, unable to stay quiet under their scrutiny any longer, Panda burst out, “I didn't touch it, Sam!!! I swear!”

Sam looked at her sternly, “I haven't asked you yet, Panda. Listen to instructions.”

She snapped her mouth shut and slid her hands into her pockets, a panicked look frozen on her face. 

Sam looked to Edge on his far left. “Edge? Did you touch the elf, or know it's whereabouts?”

“No, sir.” 

“Tosca, you?”

“No, I didn't!”

“Panda?” 

She shook her head, vehemently, “No!”

Sam pinned Alex with his stare. “Alex?”

Alex looked at Dean. She could see in his eyes that this game was entirely Sam’s idea, some messed up plan to play with her feelings, humiliate her in front of him and her sisters. Just looking at Dean, tears started to form, so she forced them away, turning an angry gaze back at Sam instead. But she couldn’t find the words.

“Alex?” Sam's voice was softer as he repeated her name, resuming a calm, but forceful tone. “Did you move the elf?”

Alex shrugged. “Maybe it just got up and moved by itself. That’s what those things are supposed to do, right?”

Sam's expression did not bode well. “Alex, everyone else has given me a straight answer to a straight question. This is not a joke. And lying on top of disobedience would be unwise for whoever took it. Answer me, now.”

Alex couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How exactly is this not a joke? It’s a toy, for fuck’s sake, not the Book of the Damned! Yeah, I moved it. Okay? You happy?” 

Sam looked, predictably, disappointed. He again appeared to address the room at large, rather than her specifically. “It's serious because Dean gave an order yesterday and we expect you to obey our orders, even if you think them unimportant. The rest of you can go.” He paused as the other three swiftly moved to obey. “Alex, is the elf damaged, or can you go get it?”

“Dean’s precious elf is just fine, but I’m not getting it.”

Sam's face and tone hardened. “You think so? How about you try that again.”

“You want it so bad?” Her voice broke and she turned away slightly to hide angry tears she couldn’t hold back. “Hunt it yourselves. That’s what you care about most!”

Sam crossed his arms, the tic in his jaw giving away just how mad he was. “Really, little girl? Part of your punishment is making right what you did. In this case, you _will_ be returning the elf to Dean. But if you want to add ignoring a second order to the spanking you already have coming, I guess that's your choice.” He glared, everything in his demeanor intimidating, demanding she surrender.

She wouldn’t. “You can do whatever you want, Sam. Fight big brother’s battles for him, since he can’t seem to speak for himself,” she snapped, trying like hell to provoke him, anything to get her punishment back in Dean’s hands. “Spank me every day until Christmas. I don’t care. I’m not giving back that elf.”

A low, “ _fuuuck_!” came from the next room. 

Sam's head whipped around, his voice sharp, “Panda, I dismissed you. You'd better find somewhere else to be, unless you'd like to find yourself next in line for a spanking.”

A small noise like a borderline squeak and receding footsteps suggested she did not, in fact, want that. 

Dean gave a quiet snort. “Shouldn't take it out on Panda, Sam; we all know who you're really mad at.” Sam opened his mouth to reply, but snapped it shut again. 

“Oh, now he speaks,” Alex quipped at Dean, anger, relief, and hope all rushing over her. “Panda, you’ll get involved. Me, you leave to the wolf.”

“You got that all wrong, kid. Sam thought I was too mad to deal with you ‘appropriately’, so I agreed to let him take point till I calmed down. Now you've riled him up, I guess I'm the calmer one.”

Sam huffed in annoyance, but Dean ignored him and continued, “I'll be dishing out the punishment you earned by disobeying my orders. Then Sam can have his own discussion with you about respecting and obeying him. C'mere.” He pulled one of the wooden chairs out and pushed it toward Alex. 

Alex stopped. She felt like the whole room had turned on its head, the rules of the game having changed so fast. She’d had defenses in place, arguments on the tip of her tongue, but the fight had ended so quickly and suddenly she felt completely stripped and vulnerable. A quiet, “What?” was all she could manage. 

Dean didn't sound angry any more, but completely, dangerously, calm. “Come over here - right now - and bend over the back of the chair; hands on the seat. Don't pretend you didn't ask for this.”

She looked at the chair, the back low enough that she’d be able to keep her feet flat on the floor. That fact didn’t make her feel any better, though, with the feel of Sam’s gaze on her, and her face flushed. She looked back at Dean, eyes pleading. This wasn’t the way she’d imagined this going. Her voice was small. “In front of-”

Dean was completely without pity, “Oh, yes, Miss Alex. He's not going anywhere; like I said, he'll be taking his turn when I'm through with you. I'm not saying it again.”

Alex closed her eyes. He was right. She’d known she was in for a licking the moment she’d hid the elf. She just didn’t think he’d take it so seriously. That Sam would get so involved. That was the worst part of this. What should have been a quick trip over Dean’s knee had escalated into something else entirely. 

With small, careful steps, her heart racing, she walked over to the chair and bent over the back. She reached beneath the wooden armrests, gripping the cushioned seat, the heavy wood against her fingertips grounding her. The skin on her backside tingled with a dreaded anticipation as Dean stepped to her side and grabbed the chair for leverage.

**_Smack!_**

The first swat landed sharply to the middle of her left cheek. Her fists clenched around the chair as the burn in her skin began to slowly ignite. She kept her breathing even, her face stoic in front of Sam. This was only the beginning. She had a long way to go, and she had no intention of giving either of them an ounce of satisfaction.

The next several slaps fell in quick succession to the same spot. There was a brief pause, then a harsh swat to the matching place on her right side. Alex gasped unconsciously, her grip tightening as her pelvis was slammed into the hard chair back. For just a moment she was knocked off balance and she kicked out slightly, trying to right herself.

“Position,” Dean murmured, but he moved his other hand to rest on the small of her back, steadying her, before following with another fast volley focused on his new target. 

She knew it shouldn’t, but the feel of his hand gave her strength and Alex melted into it. Her ass was stinging, but she dropped her head and pressed her lips together, taking every blow in a painful silence. 

Dean continued with this strategy, picking a new spot, seemingly at random, and landing a series of rapid swats on top of each other before moving on, making circuit after circuit until her entire bottom was ablaze. 

There was a slightly longer pause and his hand moved from her back to her arm. “Up.”

With little fight left, Alex let go of the chair, her hands stiff from holding on so hard, and discreetly wiped unshed tears from her eyes. She stood shakily, the room spinning as the blood rushed from her head. Dean waited for her to steady, to blink away the haze of her submission and focus on him, before continuing.

“You directly disobeyed me, Alex. In this family you don't get to decide which orders are important enough for you to pay attention to, and which you can ignore.”

Before she could argue, he turned her to the side, lifted her skirt, and landed three stinging swats right to the center of her bottom. Just as suddenly, he turned her back and looked her in the eyes. He must have recognized the defiance and resolve there because he sighed, brushing the hair back from her face. “I want my elf back, Alex, but I'm not gonna try to force you. You can apologize when you're ready.”

She lowered her head as a tear of relief fell. But it didn’t last long.

“Punish her for the disrespect, Sam. I get that she earned it -”  
  
Alex looked up, eyes wide in a panic. “Dean...”  
  
“Don’t _’Dean’_ me, you know I'm right, kiddo,” he said, squeezing her shoulder, then turning back to Sam. “But you can leave her alone about the stupid toy, that's just between her and me.” He let go of her and gave her a small nudge. Something crossed Sam's face at Dean's words, he even looked mildly embarrassed, but he swallowed down whatever it was and looked at her expectantly. 

Alex took one tiny step toward Sam before stopping. Her chest was tightening. “Sam, please…” It wasn’t the spanking, she could handle that. It was just that everything about Sam punishing her was different. With Dean it almost felt like a game. But with Sam, there was nothing playful about it. It almost just made her feel small.

Sam's sigh was almost imperceptible, his frustration toward her had obviously cooled. His voice sounded gentle and somewhat reluctant. “Come here, Alex.”

Everything in her head screamed at her to run, but she knew Dean would just grab her. So she unconsciously linked her hands behind her back, a protection for her already blistered backside more than an attempt at contrition, and slowly made her way over to Sam. 

Sam pinned her with a stern look. “We treat each other with respect in this family.” There was that word again. Family. “You're not allowed to speak to any of us like that,” Sam continued, “but I was talking to you as your authority figure and you could have voiced your side of things while keeping your tone and words in check.” 

Alex wasn’t so sure she could have then, and she certainly wasn’t sure she could now. “You going to spank me?” she asked. She didn’t want to talk, she just wanted to get this over with.

He looked at her intently, “Do you not think you deserve a spanking for treating me that way? You were practically begging for it.”

“No one begs for you to spank them, Sam.”

“Well, it doesn't seem like you gave me much of a choice. I don't hear you apologizing for the way you were acting, and you were just warned yesterday about your attitude.” He gently took her arm and pulled her close to his left side. “Bend over.”

Humiliation rushed through her at the order and she glanced pleadingly over at Dean. One look, though, told her she wasn’t getting out of this. His lips were tight, his face hard. 

Keeping her hands behind her back, she slowly bent at the waist, her long hair falling down her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut, and waited.

Sam lifted her skirt carefully and anchored her close to him with his left arm. “You can put your hands on your knees, or hold onto my leg. Do not break position, and don't reach back.”

She unclasped her hands and let them fall to her knees, feeling a million times more vulnerable and twice as sorry that she’d gotten herself in this position in the first place.

He started to spank in a steady rhythm. His large hand seemed to fall indiscriminately, not nearly as hard as he could, Alex knew that from experience, but hard enough, especially over the spanking she'd already received. When he'd thoroughly covered her bottom he let loose with a flurry of smacks to the crease where the undercurve met her thighs. 

“Ow, Sam!” she pleaded despite herself. Sam only responded by spanking harder. “Owww!”

Finally, he stopped and lifted her to standing, allowing her skirt to fall back into place. Tears of humiliation streamed down her face. He held her steady as she reoriented herself.

He used the sleeve of his flannel to get rid of the evidence of her tears and searched her face, much as Dean had. He seemed worried, “Please try to behave, Alex. I'm not really sure what has gotten into you, but any one of us would be more than willing to help if there's anything we can do. Can . . . can I have a hug? You can say no.”

Alex looked at him. She wanted to feel sorrow and guilt. But she didn’t. All she felt was a hollowness in her stomach. An emptiness where something was supposed to be. Someone. But not even their ghosts were there. She stepped backwards, her eyes falling to the floor. 

“No, thank you,” she said. 

He nodded. “Okay. I understand. You can go if you want. Or you can come watch Hallmark movies with us in my room, I think someone said something about popcorn balls . . .”

“I think...I think I’m gonna just go to my room.” She looked up at Dean. “Is that okay?”

“Sure, kiddo. If you change your mind, we'd like to have you, but it's okay if you need some space. I'll come check on you later, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said and she left the library, avoiding her sisters’ penetrating looks as she passed them in the kitchen. She disappeared into her bedroom, dropped onto her bed and curled up on her side, avoiding any brush of the blanket against her raw skin. She closed her eyes and images of Christmases past swam in the darkness. Tears started to fall, tears she couldn’t stop. Only twelve days to go, and then she’d be free of this pain for another year.

* * *

  
She opened her eyes when she heard a soft double knock on the partially open door. The emotion of the afternoon must have wiped her out and she’d fallen asleep. She heard the knock again and realized it wasn’t either of the boys. She sat up, then thought better of it, the sting on her backside flaring. 

“Who is it?” she asked, trying to look casual and nonplussed as she laid back down on her side. 

Panda peeked her head tentatively through the door. “Um, it's just me. We're having an intermission in the movie marathon. Is it okay . . . Can I come in for a sec?” 

“Yeah, sure.” This time Alex ignored the pain as she sat up. She wasn’t going to look like a wimp in front of her sister. “How’s the movie?”

“Um, cheesy.” Panda's small grin gave away that she didn't consider that a bad thing. She pushed the door open balancing a plate loaded with gingersnaps and white chocolate popcorn balls in one hand and a cup of eggnog in the other. 

“Ha,” Alex chuckled. “Not surprising. Dean likes to pretend he’s so tough but he’s just a softie.”

Panda carefully set down the goodies on the nightstand and took a deep breath trying her best to meet Alex's eyes.

“I don't mean to be insensitive, I know you don't like an audience or whatever when…”

Alex frowned, her eyes falling to her lap with embarrassment. But she didn’t stop her. 

“Uh, anyway . . . and I don't want you to take this as me pitying you or something. It's just . . . we've all been there.” She subconsciously rubbed at her behind with one hand before catching herself. “Well, you know. And I get it if you want to be alone; I just didn't want you to feel like you _are_ alone.” 

Tears sprang to Panda’s eyes and she went on in a low voice. “I just didn't know; I _never_ would have voted to keep the stupid thing in the house if I knew it was going to cause you trouble or upset you or anything. You have to believe me. I tried to change my vote after you left the kitchen yesterday and I realized . . . but Dean wouldn't let me. I don't care about it so much and it's definitely not worth _that_. I'm really sorry, Alex. I guess I just wanted to say sorry and make sure you were okay.”

Alex shook her head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I knew when I moved it I’d be asking for it from Dean, I just didn’t think Sam…” She bit her lip, trailing off. 

Panda’s eyes widened, “Did they _both-_? Never mind, you don't have to talk about it.”

“Don’t pretend you weren’t all listening. I heard you. Nice swearing by the way,” Alex smirked. “I knew you had it in you.”

Panda's face reddened, “I, uh, I didn't mean to snoop, I just . . . And it slipped out. Jeez! I couldn't decide if that was a total badass move, or if you just had a death wish, taunting the moose like that. But I didn't hear any more, I left, I'm not as brave as you. And I'm the only one who was hanging around as far as I know.”

“Sam just...I don’t know.” Alex pulled her pillow into her lap and twirled a red fringe around her finger. “He sets me off. In so many ways. It’s just not the same as things are with Dean, ya know? And I knew I was digging myself deeper and deeper into a hole, but I just couldn’t stop. I was just so mad that he got involved at all.”

“Oh. Yeah, Sam is . . . Yeah, I feel you.”

“Yeah.” Alex lifted her head and smiled softly at Panda. “Anyway. Thanks. For coming in. I know I’ve been acting strange. Short-tempered. This time of year...it’s not easy for me, and I highly suspect today won’t be the last…” Her face reddened. 

“Oh." Panda looked hesitant like she didn't know how, or whether to respond. "I . . . I guess it would be hard not to notice. I'm sorry, that sucks." She gave Alex a sympathetic grimace. "Is there anything I can do?”

“You could steal the boys’ paddle,” Alex joked. “Pretty sure I’m in for that next time.”

Panda tried to stifle her laughter. “I hope you're joking. I mean, I'd take a paddling for you, sure, but that would be a doozie and I'm pretty sure they'd still give you your turn.” 

“Oh I’m sure they would!” Alex laughed. “Still, the look on Dean’s face when he found it gone.”

“You do have a death wish! I don't want to see that! Well, maybe if I was in a mood.” Panda smiled at Alex then sobered. “They don't know I came in here, all they said was you wanted some space. I should get back. Are you sure you don't want to join? Holiday in Handcuffs is coming up next. It's literally the best, cheesiest Christmas movie ever!” 

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. I don’t really need everyone’s eyes on me tonight, or Sam and Dean feeling guilty or looking for an apology. I think it’s best if we all just sleep off this sorry incident. Maybe I’ll just sleep until Christmas is over,” she said only half-jokingly.

Panda tried to chuckle at the joke, but looked more like she was trying to hide her concern. “Okay, if you're sure. We _wouldn't_ , but I understand about feeling like everyone's looking.”

She paused at the door, “Alex . . . If there's anything I could do to make it better I want to. I think any of us would, but honestly, I'll at least try to be more aware.”

“Thanks, Panda.” Alex knew there wasn’t anything anyone could do unless they could turn back time or eliminate Christmas from the calendar. But… “It’s nice to have someone care. Really.”

Panda's smile looked more genuine, “Of course. What are sisters for?” She tapped the door, “Do you want this shut?” 

“Yeah, please,” Alex said. She watched Panda go with a wave, then laid back on her bed. She laced her hands behind her head and stared up at the ceiling. And she smiled, wondering exactly how bad it could possibly be if she did steal that paddle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hope you’re enjoying and LOVE to read comments so please leave one if you’re able <3


	3. 10 days ‘til Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and reviewing, it has meant so much reading your excitement and encouragement.
> 
> Just an fyi, Edge and Tosca have chosen to take their names off the whole fic as co-authors, but they will be on for the chapters where their characters are featured.

* * *

  
“I want those ingredients measured and packaged by the time I get back,” John ordered, as he finished packing his things into his duffel and started heading up the bunker stairs. “You hear me, boys?”

“Yessir,” Sam and Dean answered, beginning the task of unpacking everything from the bags John had carried in.

“Girls?” John repeated. 

“Yessir,” the girls echoed and waved as John turned to open the bunker door.

Edge trotted a few steps toward him. “Sir? You didn’t open today’s window on the Advent calendar.”

“Oh, was that my turn today?”

“Yes, it was. I reminded you yesterday.”

John smiled at her. “I’m sorry, darlin. I need to head out. You’ll take care of it for me this once?”

“Yessir,” but she was frowning as she backed away from the stairs.

They’d all been ordered into the war room the moment John had come home with his hands full from the store. Alex was excited. She loved magic, loved being able to explore potions and spells and know that she was doing all she could to help the Winchesters. 

“Edge, Tosca, you stay in here with Dean and help him with the liquids,” Sam said as he brought the dry ingredients with him into the library. “Alex and Panda, you’re with me.”

Carrying bulk packages of nearly every herb and spice under the sun, the girls made their way into the library and spread it all out on the table.

“Alex, can you go run into the storeroom and grab some more vials, Dad seems to have bought a year’s worth of stuff here.”

“Sure.” Alex hummed to herself as she walked, happy to put off sitting on those hard library chairs for another few minutes. She knew from experience that the inch of padding did little to protect a sore backside, and though the pain was mostly gone from yesterday’s spankings, her sit spots were still a bit tender. She’d just have to try to get away with sitting on her knees or standing, she thought as she opened the door to the store room and switched on the light.

“Vials...where are the vials?” she muttered to herself, avoiding looking at the desk where she’d stashed the elf. She searched through some of the drawers on the shelf across from the door until she found them, then turned around to grab an empty duffel from the small pile on the rack beside her. 

And found herself face to rosy, happy face with the Christmas elf, sitting on top of the rack. 

Holding a Winchester paddle in its stupid little white gloved hands. 

Alex’s blood boiled. “DEAN WINCHESTER, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” 

Her vision clouded and the heat crawled through her veins, reddening her skin. Her heartbeat was pounding so loud in her head she couldn’t hear the footsteps racing toward her. 

They were all there in the blink of an eye, but Alex saw only one person. “How could you?” she seethed as she raced toward Dean in the doorway, fists clenched and aiming toward him. 

“What the hell, Alex,” he said, grabbing her by the biceps, holding her off. “It’s not even-” But then he looked up. His eyes widened at the sight of the paddle, and he looked back down at her, his hands slipping softly down to hers as he met her eyes. “Alex, I didn’t...I wouldn’t…”

Dean looked around at the others - Sam seemed just as surprised as him - but then his gaze fell to the girls.

Tosca was looking at Alex with a shocked expression, then dropped her eyes to the floor with a visible attempt to school her features. She glanced over at the other girls who just seemed startled and confused. 

Dean addressed them. “Does somebody wanna tell me how the paddle ended up in here?” His voice had a cold edge to it. He didn't seem pleased, to say the least.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously at Tosca. “Do you have something to say, little girl?”

Tosca kept her eyes down. “No,” she said simply.

“You knew the elf was in here, you telling me you had nothing to do with this?”

“Wait.” Alex turned to Tosca. “You knew?” she snapped.

Now Tosca raised her head and looked at Dean. “Why are you blaming me?” She challenged.

“I'm _asking_ you and I already said why. You need me to spell it out for you? You were with me last night when we set it up. So, did you do this?”

Alex pulled out of Dean’s arms, the knot in her belly tightening. “You two set this up? Together?”

“Why do you automatically suspect me?” Tosca huffed defensively. “Gee, you must think so highly of me!” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. 

“We all know you did it, Tosca, just fucking admit it,” Alex snapped. 

Dean looked back and forth from Alex to Tosca. “Okay, hold on, stop, both of you. Alex, we found it last night, I set it up in here because I didn't want to rub it in your face and you don't come in here very often. Tosca. I will not ask you again, I want a straight answer. Now.”

Tosca’s face got red. “It--it’s not--why does SHE get her way about it, the Elf is supposed to be a part of Christmas, not hidden away in a closet!” She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed angrily.

“You little bitch!” Alex seethed before she went after Tosca. Lips curling, she pushed her sister as hard as she could.

 _“I’m_ a bitch? I’m not the one who threw a temper tantrum about a _Christmas toy_ and everyone bent over backwards to make you happy!” Tosca shouted, trying to right herself as she stumbled backwards. She lunged towards Alex. _“You’re_ the one who’s acting like a _bitch_ , being all grumpy about everything!” She tried to grab ahold of Alex’s arm.

Alex pulled away, fists clenching. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re just a spoiled brat. You think you can just taunt me and get away with it?” She pulled her arm back to strike. 

“HEY!”

“HEY!!”

In a heartbeat, Sam had Tosca around the waist, lifting her off the ground. Meanwhile Dean had Alex's forearm in a vise-like grip. He grabbed her other elbow with his free hand and pulled her backwards a few feet so that she and Tosca were no longer within striking distance. 

“Let me go!” Alex yelled, her other fist coming down on his arm. “Let me go!”

Dean grunted at the blow, “Damn it, Alex!” 

Tosca’s mouth fell open in shock. “I--” she huffed, struggling against Sam’s hold on her. “You-- you can fuck right off!” She shouted, glaring at Alex, trying to twist out of Sam’s hands. “Sam, put me DOWN!”

Sam, unexpectedly, did. He whirled Tosca around to face him. “ENOUGH!!!” He partially turned toward Alex. “BOTH OF YOU!” He took a deep breath and pulled himself up to his considerable full height, his tone steely. “Not another word unless you're asked a direct question.”

Tosca flinched at his loud voice, but she set her jaw stubbornly. 

Alex’s whole body seemed to shake with the effort to stop fighting. She clenched her jaw tight. Dean’s hand on her arm felt like fire and she wanted to be a million miles away from him. From all of them. The sensation of every eye in the room on her was too much and she fought against Dean’s grip, trembling. 

Dean's voice sounded hoarse with anger, “Sam. I'm going to speak with Alex privately. Take _her_ in the library and keep her there.” He turned the full force of his glare on Tosca. “ _You._ Are in _trouble._ ” 

He waited till Sam had led Tosca out and the other girls had dispersed. He moved until he was between Alex and the door and let her go. He didn't seem angry any more, although he kept his voice firm. “Do not hit me again. We both know you were out of line and there's only one response I got when you made this physical." He sighed and his expression became more gentle; almost wistful. "I wanna put that aside for a minute and pretend you didn't. I know you have a reason to be upset right now so, we're gonna talk and - one time deal - I'm gonna give you a pass if your tone or word choices are outside of what I would normally consider acceptable; you don't have to worry about anything you say adding to your punishment. Go ahead.”

“Go ahead, what? Spill my guts to you? After what you pulled with Tosca? Screw you!” Alex started toward the door. She knew she wasn’t going to make it through, but she was sure as hell going to try. 

Dean's only reaction was to reach behind him and close the door. He took a step back and leaned against it casually. “Okay.” It was said calmly and quietly like they were having a normal conversation. “What exactly do you think Tosca and I pulled?”

“Are you fucking serious?” She spun around, grabbing the paddle before turning back to him. “You don’t want me to touch your stupid elf, fine. But this is just a low blow.” She threw the wicked thing across the room toward the shelves, knocking over a box full of witch burrs that spilled across the floor.

Dean watched the paddle fly across the room, flinching slightly as it struck. He turned back to meet her gaze with a pained expression. “I completely agree with you, Alex. I didn't have anything to do with that.”

“She said you set it up together.”

“We found the elf together. She watched me put it there. I figured it was as good a place as any where it wouldn't be in your face all the time. I never set the paddle out with it. Tosca must have thought it would be funny, but she did it completely on her own.”

Alex scoffed. “Funny. Right. She was being mean and vindictive and you know it.”

“I plan on taking care of your sister, Alex. What she did was completely out of line.”

“She’s not my sister!” Alex spat. “She’s not family. None of you are.” Tears welled in her eyes. Memories flooded her head. She pushed them all away. 

Dean swallowed. “I'm sorry you feel that way and I'm really sorry this happened, but nothing you say can change the fact you're my family. I'd do anything for you, kid.”

“No. You wouldn’t. You’d rather have a stupid elf than me. You’d all rather have Christmas than me. You’re no different than-” She stopped and turned away. 

Dean let the silence hang for a second. “I didn't choose a fudging elf toy over you. You know I didn't. I wish I'd never brought it home, but I did. Nobody here wants to hurt you, we're on your side. You wanna tell me what you're talkin’ about with this ‘choosing Christmas over you’ crap?”

Part of her did. Part of her really did want to tell him everything. But speaking out had never done her any good before, so she just wiped away a tear and shook her head. “No.”

“I can't force you, but I wish you'd let me help. Something's clearly eating at you and it's not really fair if you're gonna keep blaming us when we don't even know what's going on.”

Alex nodded. She knew he was right. “I’m sorry,” she said, and she meant it. But she also knew it didn’t change anything. 

Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We're at least clear that I got the message about the elf and I was never trying to throw it in your face or embarrass you?”

“Yes.” She sniffed and turned around, blinking up at him. “I’m sorry I hit you.”

“I forgive you,” he sighed again. “If you're done talking, you can go get the paddle and bring it here; we can get it over with.”

She looked at it, across the room where she’d thrown it. And she knew one thing. She would not give Tosca the satisfaction. “Can you...can you use your belt instead? Please?”

Dean was suddenly all business. “Bring it here. Right now.” 

“No!” He could ask a hundred times, she was not going to budge. “You can whip me twice as much, I don’t care, but Tosca put that there to get me paddled and I’m not going to let her get away with it!”

Something almost like amusement crossed Dean's face, “Alex. You threw it across the room. I want it back. I haven't decided if I'm gonna use it on you yet, but either way, I'll be needing it when I go have that discussion with Tosca.”

She studied him, tried to figure out if it was a trick, if he would grab her and use it the moment she was close enough. She tried to decide if she could trust him. Walking over to it, she watched him every step, kept her eyes on his as she bent down and picked it up. She took one step toward him and held it out.

He took it from her and placed it on the desk. “Thank you. I'm gonna overlook the fact for now that you should be leaving the ‘not letting her get away with it’ to me. That if you'd done that in the first place, if you'd trusted Sam and me to take care of Tosca, she'd be the only one in for a sore ass right now.”

Alex lowered her eyes, squeezing her hands now clasped in front of her. She knew what Dean said was true. She also knew it never could have gone that way.

“I _will_ be using my belt because I don't agree with what Tosca did and I think that, with the meaning you're giving it, using the paddle would make this a more severe punishment than you deserve. Bend over the desk, Alex.”

Alex took a deep breath and stepped toward the desk. She rolled the chair out of the way, moved the papers to the side, and bent over, resting her head on her arms. She tried to still her nerves. 

Dean touched her back briefly. Alex flinched, but merely squeezed her eyes tightly shut as he whisked her skirt up over her back and took her underwear down to her mid thigh. She heard the belt buckle clink and within moments the leather loop was tapping against her hip. His other hand settled on her back and his voice reached her low and even. “You completely lost control. You attacked your sister and you hit me. Unacceptable, Alex. You don't have to count.”

“Yessir,” she whispered. 

The belt cut across the middle of her bottom with a whistling crack. A line of fire erupted on her skin.

“Ah,” she hissed, despite herself. She buried her head further, pressing her mouth into her arms, biting into her sleeve. 

A brief pause gave her time to catch her breath before the second stroke fell, only slightly below the first. 

She held in her cry, but she couldn’t hold back the tears forming behind her lids. Her bottom throbbed as she readied herself for the next strokes.

The belt lashed across her right sit spot twice with only a small hesitation between. 

“Owww, Dean please,” she cried, more to herself than to him.

His only response was to press down a little with the hand on her back and give her two matching licks to her left side. 

She clenched her fists, stifled her sobs and her muttered pleas, and braced for the rest. She’d asked for this, she reminded herself. She’d earned it the moment she had put her hands on Dean.

The next three lashes came faster, cutting across the top of her bottom, slightly overlapping. She was given a brief pause, one tiny moment to breath before three more fell lower. Her skin felt like it was on fire, new flames reigniting the memory of yesterday’s burn, and her muscles were starting to ache beneath the surface. The strokes just felt harder and harder to take. 

“Dean, please,” she cried now to him. “Please, I...I’m trying, but...I can’t…”

“You can, Alex," she heard his deep voice as the next lick sliced across the middle of her bottom. “I've got you.” The belt fell again, twice, continuing its path down. 

Alex let his voice wash over her, clinging to the sound, letting it echo in her mind while her tears released the pain in her body. 

There was a slightly longer pause. His hand left her back for a moment to brush her hair away from her ear. “It's okay to cry,” he murmured. “You're doing perfectly, just hold position. I'm going to finish up.”

“Yessir,” she whispered, grasping hold of his words, keeping them in her head, trying to stay there, where the pain wouldn’t hurt her. 

His hand went back to bracing her against the desk. The belt started to fall, attacking her sit spots, her thighs. Alex let her tears fall, soaking her shirt. She breathed in the agony of each stroke as Dean made his final circuit across her already flaming skin, and then breathed it out again, letting it pass through her. Finally, the belt was dropped to the desk. 

“You did it, Alex. We're done.” He left his other hand where it was, his thumb gently rubbing the center of her back.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but cry, trying to get rid of all of the pain. She felt some of it float away. But more of it lingered. In her skin. In her heart. 

As her crying continued, Dean pulled the chair back over before gently lifting her up. He sat down, guiding her into his lap, careful not to hurt her aching bottom, and cradled her head to his chest. After a moment, his stubble brushed her face as he whispered, “Is this okay?”

She nodded against him, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “What do you do when your whole family’s gone?” she whispered. “When everything reminds you of them?”

He was silent a long moment. She could feel his hold on her tighten a little as her words sunk in. When he spoke, he pulled back so he could look her in the eyes. “I'm so sorry, Alex; I wish I had an easy answer that would fix it. Part of them will always be there; I don't think that hole goes away, ever. But you know you're not replacing them, it's okay to heal, to make new memories. It's also okay to do it at your own pace. You don't have'ta try to force yourself to be happy when you're not. I'm sorry if you've felt pressured at all to do that.”

Alex was quiet, tucked safely in his arms. She wanted to open up, to tell him everything. If there was anyone she wanted to know her like that, it was him. But she’d kept herself closed off for so long. Letting go of it was terrifying. There was one thing, though. 

“I’m sorry I said you weren’t family. I know how much...how much that means to you.”

He wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb and went for a nonchalant smile that she knew was forced. “Thank you for saying that, but I knew it wasn't true. Either way, you can't get rid of me that easy. I'm sorry you thought I'd hurt you so bad on purpose.”

“I...I just…” Had she really thought that? She wanted to trust him. “I don’t know. I didn’t know.”

“I know I can be an insensitive jerk sometimes, but I hope I wouldn't be that much of a dick.” He smirked at her. 

“I...I’m sorry. I hoped you wouldn’t be too, I just…” She shook her head. She shifted on his lap and her backside flared, reminding her why she was there. “I’m still not sorry I went after Tosca. Not really.”

Dean sobered. “I understand. I'm gonna have that talk with her in a bit. You don't have to feel like everything's alright between you two, but I expect you to have self control and not get in another altercation with her.”

“I’ll try, Dean,” she said and she meant it. Still, she knew herself. “I’m not gonna make promises I might not be able to keep. But I’ll...I’ll accept the consequences if I need to.” 

He frowned a little. “Okay, _try_ , Alex - that's all I'm asking . . . I'd like to see you two able to move past this, but, if you need to, I'd rather you avoid her than get in another fight. Come and get me if you don't think you can do that. I know you don't like asking for help, but you don't even have to ask, just come find me and give me a chance to have your back.” He gave her a small squeeze and kissed her head again. 

“Thanks, Dean.” She gave him a soft smile. “Really.”

Dean's grin in response was radiant, “Of course, kid.” 

“I, um, I think I’m gonna go to my room. Until you guys are ready to start work again. If that’s okay.”

“Oh; yeah. Here.” He lifted her so her raw skin didn't scrape against anything as she got down. 

She chuckled, her cheeks turning slightly pink. “Thanks.” 

He ruffled her hair fondly. “I guess I'll go take care of what I've gotta do.” He picked up the paddle and his belt as he ducked out of the room giving her some privacy.

Alex watched him go, then picked up her panties from where they had fallen to the floor and slipped them back on. She wiped her eyes and fanned her face, hoping that they weren’t too red and took a few deep breaths. Remembering why she’d gone there in the first place, she filled a bag with vials before making her way slowly toward her room. But the deep Winchester voices were known to carry, and Alex was known to hold a grudge. She couldn’t help herself as she snuck towards the library to watch her sister get what she deserved. 

* * *

  
Tosca was getting tired of staring at the walls of the library. Although her adrenaline rush had faded, her anger at Alex was still there, as well as her annoyance at being pronounced guilty without even getting to tell her side. She could hear the wooden chair creak every once in a while as Sam shifted behind her, and the realization that he felt like he had to watch her like she was a naughty child who might run away made her more angry. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The pressure of Sam’s huge hand gripping her upper arm as he’d led her to the library had served to make her feel like a prisoner walking to their doom. She'd tried to keep her focus on the slight throbbing in her shoulders from where Alex had pushed her; on the agitation coursing through her veins from the physical confrontation and the sharp words that had been spoken. 

Once they had entered the room, Sam led her around one of the tables and released her arm just as she tried to pull away. “Corner,” his direction had been clipped. 

“I’m not a fucking child!” She’d snapped. Tosca hated standing in the corner; the humiliation associated with it.

Sam had loomed over her, pinning her with a withering glare. “Your behavior back there was certainly childish, so if the shoe fits…” 

Tosca had huffed angrily.

“And I suggest you do what you’re told right now, unless you want to go a round with me before Dean gets ahold of you. I’m sure he won’t mind if I’ve warmed your butt up for you.” 

Tosca had glared back at him, but stood still. He'd given her a moment until it became apparent she wasn't planning on obeying. “Did you hear what I said? Find a corner, NOW,” he'd repeated, his face thunderous. 

Her response had been pure sass, gesturing toward all the reading nooks along the wall. “There’s a lot of corners here, can I pick any one? I think I’ll go to the one down there,” She'd pointed toward the far end of the room.

Sam had run out of patience at that point, taking her arm again and steering her forward into the reading nook directly across from the table. He'd turned her to face the corner. “You’re staying right here.” 

She'd spun to face him. “This is ridic--”

Sam had forcefully turned her back to the corner landing two hard swats on her rear end. “You--will- not-move -from-this-corner,” he’d gritted out. “Is that clear?” 

When she hadn't responded right away, he’d smacked her butt again. “I said, is that CLEAR?”

“Yes!” Tosca snapped.

His hand had crashed down again. “What was that?” 

Tosca had gasped as his hand landed rapid-fire on her behind a few more times. “All right! Yes sir!”

Sam had let go of her. “Stand up straight, arms behind your back. I’m going to be sitting at the table, making sure that you don’t try to run away or move.” 

After he'd been satisfied that she was staying in place, he’d walked over to the table and sat down.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Now Tosca was staring at the walls of the corner, still seething. At least it was a small comfort that he hadn’t put her into the Punishment Nook. Being in the corner in there always meant that at least one implement was coming out of the drawer, to be used on you.

Christmas was supposed to be a time of togetherness, of celebration. She'd been enjoying the fun of doing holiday things with her sisters and introducing them to her favorite cookie recipes and the like. Everything would have been perfect, if it hadn't been for Alex, walking around with a Grinch-like expression. Her outburst about the Elf on the Shelf the other night had seemingly come out of nowhere. 

Tosca had already felt a little exasperated by Alex's behavior. When she and Dean discovered the elf stuck in a drawer last night, and Dean had insisted that he set it up in the storage room so as not to upset Alex, it had irked Tosca even more. On top of that, she'd felt somewhat jealous; why should Alex be given special consideration like that? She hadn’t even apologized for throwing a fit or explained what her deal was! 

Suddenly a deep voice cut through her resentful thoughts. “Alright, Tosca. Come here.” 

Tosca froze for a second. When did she get so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard Dean come into the room? 

She turned--Dean was sitting in the armchair behind her. He was pointing directly in front of him, the ottoman having been pulled to the side to make room for her. 

She slowly walked over to stand in front of him, noticing the paddle that had caused all the fuss and a folded belt sitting on a shelf within easy reach.

Tosca stared at the floor, her face heating up, trying to calm the nerves jittering in her stomach and recall the anger that she had felt in the storage room. 

Sam spoke up, “I sent the other girls to the shooting range. I'll join them while you take care of things here.”

Dean nodded without breaking eye contact with Tosca. He waited until Sam left the room. “I want to start by admitting I lost my cool back in the storage room. I've calmed down some now, and I wanna talk about the rules you broke.” 

Tosca folded her arms over her chest. “Fine,” she said in a clipped voice.

“You moved the elf after you were told not to. Did you think because we found it and set it up together, that meant you were allowed to move it any time you wanted?”

Now Tosca looked up at Dean her voice ringing with protest. “I didn’t move it! You’re the one who put it there, I just put the paddle with it!” When she finished speaking, the realization of what she had just admitted flooded her and she felt her face become hot.

“Well, thank you for finally admitting that.” There was a hint of relief in Dean's tone. “I count messing with it and setting it up with a prop the same as moving it, and I think you could have realized that it's the same if you'd stopped to think, but fine; maybe you can answer me this, Tosca: What's the rule about messing with the implements from the drawer?”

She took a deep breath, and said quietly, “We’re not allowed to touch them. Sir.”

“Good. No, you're not. You're also not allowed to fight with your sisters or speak like that to your family.” 

Tosca couldn’t help her defensive response.“She started it, she started everything! I was just trying to--”

“Hey.” He held up a hand stalling Tosca’s arguments for the moment and looked earnestly into her eyes. “She should not have pushed you, or talked to you that way, or raised her hand to you. She and I took care of that. But Sam and I were right there. We weren't about to let her hurt you. You weren't just defending yourself, you were egging her on, itching to fight as much as she was.”

Tosca’s mouth snapped shut and she dropped her eyes to the floor again. 

“Eyes up here.” Dean's voice was no-nonsense.

Tosca slowly raised her head and looked at Dean again.

“This isn't something I take lightly, Tosca. We have each other's backs in this family; trying to attack and hurt each other is unacceptable.”

Tosca scoffed. “She doesn’t have anyone’s back but her own. Everyone else is in the Christmas spirit and having a pretty good time except her; she’s been a bi-- a rather unpleasant person. Doesn’t want to join in when we’re doing stuff or gets all grouchy at the drop of a hat and acts like we did stuff on purpose to offend her, and then never tells us what’s up! It’s hard to figure her out, and she was just itching to unload some more of her-- holiday bitchiness onto someone!” 

Dean's eyes grew dark. He took a breath like he was trying to calm himself. Still, when after a long moment he spoke, his voice held a slight tremor. “You listen to me, little girl, our rules aren't made to be followed just when you feel like it or when you think they apply. We have them for a reason. In this instance, following the rules would have kept you from hurting your sister when she's already hurting enough. Sometimes, people don't feel like celebrating; sometimes the holidays can mean being surrounded by memories that hurt like a knife to the gut. I understand she hurt your feelings, and you didn't get why she was acting that way. You didn't deserve to have it taken out on you, but that doesn't mean you should have made it harder for someone going through that. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” Tosca said sullenly. 

“‘Yes,’ what?” Dean's voice was dangerously hard. 

“Yes, _sir,”_ Tosca’s voice dripped with snark.

“Really?!” Dean was incredulous. “You're gonna give me attitude? Fine. C'mere then.” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her over to him before starting to unfasten the button on her pants. 

“Dean!” she protested, trying to grab at his wrists and her jeans.

He smacked her hands out of the way and succeeded in pulling her pants and underwear down to her knees. 

With his foot, he pulled the ottoman over to them. “Bend over the ottoman. Now.”

 _“Dean!”_ her protest was louder as she tried to stumble backwards and pull her jeans up at the same time.

He took firm hold of her arm and gave her a volley of no-nonsense swats to the center of her bare bottom. His scolding as he spanked her was equally no-nonsense. “Little girl. This is happening. Stop trying to fight your punishment. Bend. Over.” He stopped and gave her a nudge toward the ottoman. 

“Do you have to start on the bare?” Tosca hated that her voice came out as a whine, but damn, getting a spanking from Dean was one thing, and starting on the bare meant it was going to be intense.

“The answer is yes, since you wanna keep being disrespectful and fighting me, and you've got about five seconds to do as I said.”

She took a deep breath and lowered herself down onto the ottoman, laying across the center of it and tucking her arms underneath her torso. 

Dean repositioned the ottoman slightly and she felt the cool wood of the paddle resting on her bottom. “This spanking is for removing the paddle from the drawer and messing with the elf after you were instructed not to. When you disobey the rules, there are consequences.”

It was all he said before the paddle cracked down. It was long enough that it sizzled both cheeks at once.

“Aah!” The cry burst out of Tosca’s lips before she could stop herself. She tried to brace herself for the next moment of impact.

When it came, it hit her low down and was followed closely by another swat to the same spot. 

Tosca cried out again and squirmed against the cold leather of the ottoman.

He gave her two more smacks of the paddle, this time to the middle of her bottom. 

She couldn’t help it, she found herself twisting her hips to the side, to get her rear end out of the line of fire.

Dean popped her sharply on the thigh, growling. “If you can't hold position you can kneel on the ottoman with your hands on the floor and I'll start dealing out extra swats. You want that?” He gave her a matching swat to her other thigh. 

“No! Nosir!” Tosca exclaimed.

“Then stay still.”

“Yessir,” her voice was subdued now.

He resumed her punishment, landing stinging smacks all over her bottom, the burn becoming more and more intense. 

She tried to brace herself, the fact that the swats were landing randomly made it hard to predict where the next one would fall, and that and the increased burning on her behind made her eyes fill with tears and spill down her cheeks. She barely caught herself from crying out and tucked her arm around her head to muffle the noise. 

The spanking abruptly stopped and Dean set the paddle down. “Better, Tosca.” He briefly rubbed her back then stood. “That was for breaking the rules to pull your little prank.” 

As soon as Tosca heard the metallic clink of the belt buckle, she pushed her torso up and turned her head to look back at him. “No, Dean, please!” she beseeched.

Unmoved, he tapped the belt against her thigh. “This is for fighting with your sister. Get back down.”

She swallowed uneasily and lowered her torso back down onto the ottoman, laying her forehead against the smooth leather and closing her eyes.

The belt snapped across her sitspots leaving a line of fire in its wake. 

Her head jerked up and she cried out.

Dean started up a steady rhythm, giving a couple seconds pause in between strokes. He kept his placement unpredictable though, often smacking the same spot twice before moving on. 

The strokes of the belt on top of the inferno that was raging on her cheeks was almost unbearable, and she cried out again, “Aah! D-dean, pleeease!” Tears were pouring down her face now-- she couldn’t help it, her body started to struggle, to try and move away from the punishing blows. She grabbed the edge of the ottoman and hung on, stifling her whimpers in her arm.

Eventually, it stopped as abruptly as the paddling had. She heard the clinking of the belt buckle and realized with relief he was putting his belt back on. He laid a hand on her arm. “Stand up. I've got you. We're almost done.”

Tosca stood up, swiping her arm across her face to mop up the tears. “A-almost?” Her voice quivered with pain and nervousness. There was more to this wretched punishment?!

Dean kept a hand on her, making sure she was steady on her feet as he led her back over to the chair. He sat and pinned her with his intense gaze. “I wanna talk about why you decided to pull that prank on Alex. What exactly did you think was going to happen?”

Tosca fidgeted, her eyes darting around as she tried to think. “I, uh, I---I thought...I thought everyone would think it was funny.. because the elf, y’know, it’s supposed to watch kids and report back to Santa, so the elf that we have would report back to you, and because of the kinds of consequences you guys give us…” her voice trailed off and she bit her lip. 

“Earlier you went off about how Alex is not getting in the Christmas spirit and trying to ruin everyone's fun. Now you're telling me you weren't trying to get back at her?”

She lowered her head in shame, and took a deep breath. It took a couple of tries before she could admit, “...maybe...” in a voice barely above a whisper. 

“Eyes on me, Tosca. _‘Maybe’_?” 

Tosca’s shoulders gave a little shudder, and she glanced up at Dean, but then returned her eyes to the floor. “I--I can’t.” She whispered miserably. 

“You will. You can be honest - to yourself and to me right now - and face what you did.”

She squared her shoulders and looked up at him, eyes filled with tears.“All right, it was cruel of me to do that, I’m just a spiteful, vindictive bitch! Is that what you want to hear?” Tears started to roll down her cheeks and she swiped at her face.

“No. I don't want you feeling sorry for yourself, Tosca. I just want you to truly be sorry for your actions. You really hurt your sister.”

She sniffled. “What do you mean...I really hurt her?” 

His jaw worked as he thought how to answer her. “I don't know the whole story, and most of what I do know isn't mine to tell, but Alex is having a hard time right now, and that stunt you pulled just made things worse.”

Now the color drained out of Tosca’s face. “It--it did?” Her voice shook as more tears spilled out of her eyes.

“Yes. You need to think more about how your poor decisions can have consequences you don't intend. I know you're not a mind reader, but if you'd been obedient to me and the rules we already have in place, it wouldn't have happened.” 

“I--I screwed up, I thought I was being clever and snarky and that you’d laugh too, kinda … and I ended up really hurting Alex.” She bit her lip as she stared at the floor. Then she looked up at him. “Dean, you--you should get out the big paddle, or-- the cane, or something, I hurt her, and I don’t ever want to hurt any of you--I deserve it--” 

Dean's eyebrows raised, he looked like he was sizing her up. “I told you we weren't done here, Tosca. I'm glad you're fully accepting what you did. You're gonna go over my lap and take ten more hard licks with the paddle, then you'll have paid for it. It'll be over as far as your punishment’s concerned.”

Tosca took a shaky breath, unable to deny the truth of Dean's words. She slowly nodded. “Yes sir,” she said quietly, and stepped over to his right side.

“Alright. Over my lap.” He guided her over, settling her so her bottom was centered on his knees.

Even though she knew she was in for more pain, she relaxed slightly at the secure feeling she got being over Dean’s lap. There was something about the physicality of an over-the-knee spanking that was comforting. She wrapped one arm around his calf and waited for it to begin.

He tapped the paddle gently against her right sitspot causing the throbbing sting to flare back up. “You will count these.”

“Yes sir.”

There was no further warning before he brought the paddle down sharply, the flare igniting into red hot pain. “One,” Tosca gasped out.

There was another resounding crack to her other sitspot. “T-two,” her voice shook.

The next stroke landed higher up on her left cheek. She barely stifled a whimper, and wiped the tears that had tracked onto her forehead. “Th--three.”

He gave her a matching swat to her right. “Mm--four,” her voice was full of tears.

The paddle came down, blistering the center of both sides at once. She tightened her grip on Dean’s leg. “Ah! Five…”

Again the paddle struck in the same place. Tosca let out a shriek and tried to steady her breathing. She wanted to beg for a break, for it to stop, but she knew she deserved every stroke. “Plea--” she stopped herself. “S-six.”

Dean's arm went round her waist, securing her against his body. “Four more.” His touch and voice were calm and she drew strength from them.

He whipped the paddle down twice, spanning across her already flaming sitspots. She shrieked again, bursting into loud sobs, and gasped out, “Seh-eh--seven...eh--eh---eight,” in between hitching breaths.

The next swat landed high up on her right thigh. “Nine,” her voice was a moan of pain.

Her left thigh got the same treatment and through the intense pain, she recognized the sound of the paddle clattering to the floor. “Ten,” she said hoarsely, letting her tears wash away the guilt she was carrying. She wept limply over Dean’s lap, relieved that the punishment was finally over.

Dean let her cry for a few moments running his fingers comfortingly along her back. Then he gently pulled her up and cradled her in his lap. He murmured into her hair, “You did real good, sweetheart. It's all over now; we're done.” 

She slid her arms around his middle and buried her face in his flannel, unmindful of her wet cheeks. “Yes, Dean,” she murmured. 

He tightened his arms around her and just held her for a long moment. When her crying had quieted, he carefully leaned her back a little and brushed her damp hair away from her face. “You okay?”

Tosca nodded. “Besides my ass being an inferno, yeah,” her smile was rueful. “Thank you for being willing to-- give me what---I needed.”

“Always. I love you, kiddo, and I don't enjoy beating your ass, but I care about you too much to let you treat other people like that. I mean, it's not like I'm completely blameless here, I knew it bothered Alex the first time. I shoulda packed the elf up; maybe we could try it some other year, maybe not. It's just not worth it and I shoulda figured that out sooner. Do you think we can both learn from this and try to be more mindful?” 

She snuggled into him. “I love you too, Dean. I’ll be more careful about playing pranks and think about how they can affect others.” 

Dean moved her chin so she was looking back at his face. “Maybe next time you get the bright idea to get back at somebody, you can talk to the person instead. Or if Sam and my decisions are confusing to you, you can ask us about them, _before_ you do something foolish, hmm?”

She blushed a little. “Yes, Dean.”

“Alright.” He brushed some tears from her cheek before continuing, his expression very serious. “You're still gonna have to make things right with Alex after this. It might not be easy; it'll probably take some time and she might avoid you for awhile. You can't resent her for that. You'll know you already paid for it and all you can do is try to rebuild what you broke.”

Tosca sighed. “Yeah, I really screwed up, I’ve got to try and work things out. She likes chocolate, right?”

Dean's mouth quirked. “It's a start.” He kissed her forehead. “Do me a favour? If she doesn't feel like forgiving you right away, and you start getting frustrated trying to win her over, come and talk to me before you act out.”

Tosca smiled up at Dean, happy to feel like he was in her corner. “Okay, I will. Thanks, Dean.” 

“Good. I don't wanna see this drive some permanent wedge between you, or something - and I absolutely don't wanna have to punish you for this again.”

“You won’t.” She assured him.

“I appreciate that. If you're okay, I think we better get back to packing up everything Dad brought in, before he gets home, decides we were slacking, ‘n lines us all up for a taste of his belt.”

Tosca’s eyes got comically wide for a moment and she grinned as she stood up. “You’re right! I don’t think my butt could take any more right now.”

Dean smirked as he stood, “I was pretty thorough. Fix your clothes and meet me in the War Room, I'll go get Sam and the other girls.”

“Yes sir.” Tosca pulled up her panties and jeans, grimacing as the fabric slid over her scorched bottom.

* * *

Exiting the library, Dean rounded the corner and almost ran smack into Alex. He caught her arm almost reflexively and for a second they considered each other, equally caught off guard. Dean recovered quickly, glancing back into the library, probably to assure himself Tosca was still blissfully unaware, then he herded Alex further down the hall.

“Dean,” she started, but he gave her a _look,_ warning her to stay silent, and waited until he was sure Tosca had left to do as she'd been told before turning his attention back to Alex.

He kept his voice low, just in case. “Were you listening the whole time?”

Alex’s heart was suddenly pounding, but she hoped he couldn’t feel it in his grip. With as much innocence as she could muster, she smiled and held up the bag of vials. “Just bringing these back up from the storage room. Don’t want John to come home and find nothing done. You and Tosca...finished?” she asked a bit more awkwardly. 

A look of disappointment crossed his face. “Really, Alex? Damnit. Your room. Go.” He nudged her firmly down the hall, following closely behind. 

“Deeaan, I didn’t-” she protested as she walked, but he wasn’t giving her any choice but to follow his orders. 

When they got to her room he took the bag from her, took hold of her arm again, and sat down on her bed, pulling her between his knees. He studied her a long moment and sighed. “Alex, you want to explain to me why you're sneaking around and listening in on other people's punishments right after you got your ass handed to you? You're not gonna have any butt left.”

Realizing she was caught, she dropped the act and shook her head. “I don’t have any explanations or excuses.” There was no defiance in her voice. She was almost eerily calm. “I just did. And to be honest, I’m not really sorry.”

Dean frowned slightly, he didn't seem surprised. “I'm not sure how you can justify that to yourself. Can you imagine how you would feel if you found out she'd been listening to your spanking?”

“Yes. I’d probably be mortified. But if I hadn’t listened, I wouldn’t have heard…” She looked down at the floor for a moment, then back up at Dean through damp lashes. “Dean, I just want to say...thank you. For admitting you made a mistake. And. Understanding. Trying to make Tosca understand. It means a lot. So whatever I deserve for listening, it’s okay.”

Something crossed Dean's face. He pulled Alex down next to him and circled her with one arm. “I have to provide a consequence. For whatever reason, I think you're needing to feel the boundaries right now. But you shouldn't have had to listen in to hear me admit I made a mistake - I thought I . . . I guess not the words you needed to hear.” He kissed the top of her head.

“It’s just different. Hearing you say it to someone else, not just me. I feel like, it means more. You mean it more.”

He nodded. They sat in silence for a brief moment, then he pulled back so he could look her in the eye. “You told me you were gonna try to get along with Tosca. This doesn't seem like a very promising start.”

“I said I’d try. I told you I wasn’t making any promises. And I told you I’d accept the consequences if I couldn’t.”

He raised an eyebrow skeptically, “And what part of _trying_ involves spying on her while she's being disciplined? You're telling me you _tried_ not to, but you _couldn't_?” 

“I…” Her eyes shifted. He had a point. “I guess I thought, maybe, if I could hear her apologize, say she understood why she was wrong, maybe I could forgive her? Maybe it would make me feel better?” She shrugged, her heart sinking. “It wasn’t about seeing her spanked, but, I know that doesn’t matter. Not really.”

“It matters to me, and I appreciate you explaining it to me and not trying to deny what you did. But you're right, it doesn't change your punishment any.” He stood, gently tugging her to stand with him. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text before returning his focus back to her. 

“Alright, Alex. We can't drag this out much longer, we've got to finish getting Dad's haul squared away.” He pointed to a hook on her wall where she kept a selection of belts, most of which were more decorative than practical. “The thinner, plain leather one there. Get it and bring it to me.”

The burn in her backside flared, but she obeyed, knowing she had it coming. She walked to the wall and pulled down the accessory. It was one of her favorites, half an inch in width, the tip rounded, and worn from frequent use. She held it out for Dean. “Where do you want me?” she asked. 

He took it from her, brushing his calloused hand across her palm as he did. He studied her a second. “Just right here.” Alex’s brow wrinkled in question. Dean continued. “You acted knowingly; figured you could just take the spanking if you were caught. Well, we're gonna do this a little different. Hold out your hand.”

The words played over in her mind, trying to put two and two together, to understand what he was saying, and maybe it was just the shock that was confusing her, but she quickly found herself breathless. “What?” she whispered. 

While he watched her try to process the turn of events, he grabbed the buckle in his right hand and wrapped the belt around his palm leaving about a foot of leather dangling from his fist.

He took a step back and extended his free hand palm up, more or less level with his waist. “You're going to hold out your hand. Like this.” He dropped his arm back to his side and looked at her, waiting to see if she was going to make an attempt to obey this time. 

Suddenly his words snapped into place and her eyes widened. She’d seen it in movies and tv shows, nuns and teachers smacking the hands of their pupils, but she’d never experienced it herself. She closed her eyes and took a breath. She could do this, how bad could it be? She brushed her hand down her skirt, wiping away the sweat. She refused to look like a wimp in front of Dean, so, as if in slow motion, she raised her hand, fingertips already caressing her palm in mere anticipation of the pain, until she could finally bring herself to uncurl her fist. Then she raised her eyes to his.

Dean's voice was steely. “You chose to witness something you knew was supposed to be private, so now you don't get to hide anything from me. You're going to look me in the eye and count the strokes. Feel what it's like to have someone staring at you while you're being punished.”

Alex felt the heat of shame rush through her immediately and, without thought, she started to hide behind closed eyes. But Dean’s orders rang clear through her head, so she snapped them open in less than a blink, raised her chin and locked her gaze on his. ”Yes, sir,” she said, flattening her palm for him. 

Dean gave her a single nod, and tapped the end of the strap across her palm twice without any strength behind it to confirm he had the placement right. He brought his eyes back to her face. “Don't move your hand.”

Alex nodded, swallowing hard, her insides betraying her attempts at stoicism, twisting just feeling the weight of the leather on her palm and seeing those bright green eyes practically staring into her soul. This was going to sting. It was going to sting and he would be watching her every second and she wouldn’t be able to hide her pain from Dean and the thought of that alone nearly broke her. 

Dean lifted the belt; it made a slight whistling noise as it sliced through the air and came cracking down across her hand. 

“Fuck!” she hissed, pulling her hand away, cradling it in her other as the pain blossomed across her palm. A spanking she knew, but this was different. She’d had no idea how much this could hurt. All thought of counting, all thought of Dean watching, disappeared momentarily from her mind.

Dean's mouth formed a grim line. “That doesn't count, Alex. Put it back out and don't move it again.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, focusing, forcing the pain inside, before lowering her arm back down. When she looked back up at him, she saw anger and disappointment. Her stomach knotted. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“Trying to avoid or escape your punishment is never something you've been allowed to do; you know that. Eyes on me, and don't forget to count.” He lifted the belt again and brought it back down sharply across her outstretched palm. 

“One!” She kept her features frozen this time, her hurt inside. All she wanted was to hide from him how weak she truly was, but she kept her eyes trained on his, desperate to prove her strength through her obedience.

The strap cut across her hand again, this time catching the base of her fingers. 

“Two,” she pushed through gritted teeth, her voice and her hand both starting to shake.

“Keep still,” was the only warning she got before the strap slashed down across the tops of her fingers. 

“Ow, shit!” she swore under her breath before pulling away again. “Three, that’s three,” she remembered quickly, rubbing her fingers for just a second before putting them back where they belonged. 

Dean shook his head. “Didn't count. Stop moving; you do that again, I'm starting over.” Another stroke landed, right on top of the last one. 

“Three, dammit.” The burn flared on her skin with each stroke, but the worst of it was the ache of the lash that lingered deep in her bones; a dull throb mixed with the tingling of her nerves, like her hand was going numb. 

The next one fell across the middle of her fingers; the tip of the belt wrapped around the side of her hand slightly and the pain was even more intense. 

“Ow! Four.” She kept her hand where it belonged but she couldn’t stop her fingers curling for just a second at the sting that shot through her hand. “Dean, please.” The plea just spilled from her lips.

His expression flickered, but his only response was to growl, “Watch it.” The next stroke whipped across her palm again.

“Ahhh, Five.” Tears pooled in her eyes but she forced herself to hold eye contact. “Please...”

Dean dropped his arm and she had a split second of hope that they were finished, but his unyielding voice shattered it instantly. “Other hand.” 

“Dean,” she begged through her watery gaze, but one look in his eyes was all she needed to know that there would be no negotiations. They weren’t done. She’d failed him and she’d have to go through all this again. She’d have to watch him watching her, seeing through her, all over again. And this time she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold back her tears. 

She lowered her left hand, raised her right, and as she did, she made a decision. She kept her eyes trained on his, but shifted her focus away: on the space between them, the pain in her hand, anything that kept her safe from falling completely apart in front of him.

She couldn’t fool him though, not even for a second. 

“Hey!” Dean snapped once with his free hand and his eyes bore into hers. 

Alex flinched, Dean’s voice pulling her from safety, forcing her mind back to his penetrating gaze. A gaze so dark it made her heart clench.

His tone dripped with disappointment. “Focus! Your behavior so far has been unacceptable - Begging for your strapping to be over? Pulling away; trying to fight it?”

“I’m sorry, Dean, I wasn’t...I just...I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

“Didn't mean to? What the hell, Alex? You know better than that. When you earn a punishment, you accept it. You don't try to tell me what you think it should be, or when you think it should end. That's not how this works. This isn’t about the pain, Alex, and you know it. You're using the pain to distract yourself from what you're supposed to be concentrating on right now. How close am I?”

Alex blinked back her tears. She wished he would just spin her around and spank her ass, punish her crimes and let her escape his piercing gaze that pulled out secrets from deep inside her. He wouldn’t though, so all she could do was look away, refuse to admit that it was true, that focusing on the pain in her hand was so much easier than seeing the shame in his eyes. All she could do was whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Dean gave an exasperated snort, “Uh, huh. Your attention is supposed to be on me. On what you did to earn this. You didn't care enough about your sister - you risked humiliating her if she found out you were spying on her. You didn't care enough about me - you knew very well that wouldn't be okay with me. You just did what you wanted; you figured screw the consequences, you could take a regular spanking if you were caught, no problem, and the effect it would have on anyone else didn't even register in your decision. _That's_ why we're here.”

She looked back up at him, but she didn’t know what to say. Dean was right. And it was all still true. She wasn’t truly sorry. This punishment was penance, not deterrent, and it was clear as day in her eyes. 

Dean's jaw twitched. His voice was a little lower, trembling with anger and - something else. “I get it if you were still angry with Tosca. Maybe you figured she didn't deserve your consideration after what she'd done, but . . . I just thought maybe I'd earned a little. Does our relationship really mean so little that you would disrespect me, and my right to have a private conversation?” His voice cracked and he swallowed.

Alex felt her stomach drop. She hadn’t even thought...Her hand slowly slipped from position and she took a hesitant step toward him. “No, Dean.” Her voice shook. “I...I didn’t mean...You mean…” She couldn’t get out the word. Everything. He meant everything to her. 

He studied her for a second before continuing. “Did it even cross your mind to think about how much I dislike punishing you on a normal day? Never mind when I know you're already in pain - and I'm not just talking about the welts on your ass. Did it occur to you that I'd rather carve off my own arm, than ever hurt you; see you cry?” His voice became even more husky as he uttered the last sentence. He looked away briefly; when he turned back to face her his eyes were glassy.

“No,” she whispered. “I didn’t know. I didn’t realize…” She didn’t think she could ever mean that much to anyone ever again, much less Dean.

Dean shook his head slightly and there was a tremor in his voice. “Really? Because I think you just didn't stop to think about anything beyond satisfying your idle curiosity. It's bad enough seeing you hurting and not being able to stop it, but to be the one causing you pain? It kills me, Alex.” 

“I…” Did he really care about her that much? Could she let herself believe that? She wanted it more than anything. “Dean, I’m sorry,” she said, voice trembling. “You’re right. I was only thinking about myself and how much what she did hurt me and I didn’t…I wasn’t thinking about you. But I wouldn’t…” Her breath hitched and she wiped at her sudden tears with her sleeves. “I don’t ever want to hurt you, Dean.”

She saw, because he was letting her see, the effort it was taking not to go to her, not to break down himself. When he spoke this time, though, his voice was firm. “You're going to show me you're sorry by accepting your discipline. You're going to keep your hand in place, and keep your attention where it's supposed to be. On me. On respecting other people's privacy. On your decision to flippantly ignore the rules; not caring whether other people got hurt as long as you got what you wanted.”

Alex gave a slight nod. “Yes, sir,” she whispered and though it felt like one of the hardest things she’d ever done, she lifted her right hand back in position and forced herself to look at the disappointment and anguish so obvious on Dean’s face. 

He tapped her palm twice with the strap. “Five. Count ‘em.” His arm went up, and the belt came whipping down. She saw him flinch slightly when it connected and she couldn’t help but flinch with him.

“One,” she counted, holding firm. The sting in her palm was fierce, but the pain in her heart was worse. And this time she didn’t try to hide it from him. 

Dean schooled his face into a stoic mask - the one he wore to hide that he was hurting. He didn't lessen the strength of the next lash and it singed the center of her fingers. 

She couldn’t stop herself from cringing as she hissed, “Two,” between her teeth, but she kept herself strong for him. She couldn’t cause him more pain. She’d done enough already. Betrayed his trust in her.

He tapped the belt once against the base of her fingers before bringing it down at full force. She saw the hint of moisture in his eyes and it killed her to know she had caused it. 

“Three!” She bit her lip, holding in her tears. Her hand was on fire and her muscles throbbed, but she deserved every ounce of pain in both her hands. What she didn’t deserve was the chance to release that pain. Not yet. 

Dean used his wrist to wipe his face. His voice was grim, but he couldn't quite keep it steady. “Two more. Hold still.” He snapped the belt across her fingertips. 

“Four!”

The word had barely left her mouth before the last stroke whipped across her hand. 

“Five!” She cried, almost with relief, and she pulled her hand back gripping them both close to her chest. She looked at him, wanting nothing more than to fall into his arms. “Dean, I’m so sorry.”

He threw the belt on the bed and gestured to her. His voice was hoarse, “C'mere, please.”

She took one step toward him and he took her reddened hands gently in one of his, wrapping her securely in both of his arms, tucked up under his chin. She snuggled into the softness of his flannel, breathing in his rugged scent, letting it fill her with strength and, if she let herself believe it, love. 

She felt him kiss the top of her head and she thought she felt a few tears soak into her hair, but it could have been her imagination. He leaned back just a little and cleared his throat. “I want to make something very clear: I don't usually make a big deal about tanning your ass because I know sometimes you need it. I get that and I never want you to feel guilty for it, but I will also kick your ass when _I_ think you need it, no matter how much it hurts me, and I want you to remember that. Because it may seem like nothing to you, but it sure as hell ain’t nothing to me. You're worth it, kid, you are, but I'd like to know you thought I was worth taking into account.” 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Dean,” Alex sniffled. “I don’t...I don’t want to hurt you. And I know you don’t understand-”

“Hey, I do understand, probably better than anyone else. At least I understand some of it, what you've let me in on, and some stuff you don't haveta say out loud. We're good. You paid for it and I trust you'll do your best to keep that in mind in the future, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll try,” she said. She pulled her hands back and looked at them. Despite the obvious redness, the burn on her skin was already starting to fade. Or maybe it just paled in comparison to the tingling in her nerves and the deep, throbbing ache that had settled into the muscles. “We, um…” The last thing she wanted to do was work, but if they didn’t get John’s task done, they’d all be gettin’ their asses whipped tomorrow. “We better get back to Sam and the girls. Hopefully they started without us.”

Dean frowned a little, distracted at the sight of her hands. He took a deep breath, shifting gears. “They should have, I texted Sam before we started here and let him know we'd be a minute.”

Alex nodded and started out the bedroom door, trying to rub away the ache in her palms. “Do you think Sam’s gonna know?” she asked Dean as he followed, carrying the bag of vials with him. She hoped he couldn’t see the slight pink in her cheeks. “And Panda?”

He looked at her levelly. “You won't be able to hide that you were just punished, Alex. Sam's going to be asking you about what took us so long and I expect you to answer him with a hundred percent honesty. You chose to risk humiliating Tosca by watching her punishment; you've lost the privilege of your punishment being private. Got it?”

She got it. Hated it, but got it. “Yes, sir.”

He walked her up to the library and leaned against the doorway, pointedly watching her. She paused. Sam and Panda had their ingredients out and were weighing and measuring. She turned around and held her hand out for the bag. Dean handed it over without a word and she took a deep breath before walking over to the table. 

“Hey, sorry I took so long,” Alex said, handing Sam the vials with as much nonchalance as she could muster. 

Sam reached to take them, “Thanks. What -” He must have seen something despite her best efforts to pull her hand away before he could. He tried to remain casual, but his voice was more subdued, his expression a mixture of disappointment and pity. “What happened?”

She grasped her hands together, holding them close to her chest. She glanced over at Panda, who was watching silently in surprise. “I…” Cheeks now pink with embarrassment, her gaze shifted to Dean, still standing at the doorway, his face grim. She knew what was expected and she turned back to Sam, his brows creased with worry. “After we were done in the storage room, I...I snuck back to the library so I could…” She lowered her eyes to the table. She knew Dean wouldn’t be the only one angry at her and she couldn’t stand to see it in Sam’s face. “I watched Dean punish Tosca. He found me and took me to my room and he…” She could hear him shift, looking back at Dean, no doubt, and she couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. 

“Eyes on me, Alex.” Sam's voice had grown hard. She forced herself to raise her gaze. His expression was as flinty as his tone. “Keep going.”

Her voice caught in her throat. Sam’s anger was so much worse than Dean’s. So like John’s. “Dean, he...um. He thought he’d already whipped me enough, so he...he strapped my hands.”

A low horrified gasp came from Panda. She looked embarrassed at drawing attention to herself and tried to return to the task in front of her, but she shot concerned looks at Alex. 

Sam cleared his throat. “Let me see.” He held out a hand. 

Heart pounding, she slowly lowered her left hand, the one that had been struck more, onto Sam’s palm. She watched him closely through her tears, wondering if he would soothe the pain or add to it. 

He schooled his face as he studied the evidence of her punishment. When he met her eyes again she could see, amidst the anger and frustration, concern swirling in his hazel eyes. He sighed. “Alright. Let's try to get this done. I put a bunch of things over on that table that need to be ground before they’re measured. The small animal bones, there's some seeds, and roots; I'm sure there'll be more. You don't have to do all of it, but you and Panda will be taking turns. I want you to get started.” 

Alex couldn’t stand the way he was looking at her. “Sam,” she said, trying to apologize. 

He searched her face; his softened the smallest bit. “I don't know what you were thinking, but right now I really need you to focus on helping us finish this before my dad gets home.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered. She looked up to see Dean had gone from the doorway, and she went to help Panda at the table, choosing to stand rather than sit. She could only take so much pain at one time. “Hey,” she said, picking through the ingredients. Whether she ground the seeds, the roots, or the bones, her hands were gonna hurt like a bitch, at least for a little while. But the roots would be the easiest. “Is it okay if I do these?”

Panda's eyes darted sideways at her hands, before returning to her face. “Of course. Um, unless, maybe I could man the mortar and you can do the measuring?”

“I...I don’t know.” She glanced over to Sam, but he wasn’t looking their way. “I think I’m supposed to-”

“If I don't give you a turn, you can't get in trouble for it, right?”

“I guess,” she said unsure, but she grabbed the scale and the measuring spoons. “Why...why are you being nice to me? You heard what I did. Aren’t you mad at me too?”

Panda paused from grinding up a handful of mouse skulls. She looked a little confused. “Why would I be mad at you? You didn't do anything to me. And it's not like I've never let my curiosity get the better of me. Anyway - I, I just don't like it when you guys get punished.” She returned to her task, a little embarrassed at the admission. 

“Yeah.” Alex blushed as well and scooped up some of the ground bone, grateful that was all she had to do. She and Panda worked side by side in silence for a while.

Sam came by with some dried mandrake and angelica roots to add to their pile. He glanced at the two of them and did a double take. “Alex. Have you had a turn yet?”

“Um, no, sir, Panda had gotten on a roll. But we were just gonna switch. Right, Panda?” Alex looked at her sister desperately. 

Sam skeptically crossed his arms waiting for Panda's response. “Yy-yeess,” she quailed under his gaze and switched tactics when it was clear fudging the truth was not an option here. “Uh, I mean, no, sir. It was my idea. I wouldn't let her have a turn; I just really wanted to do the grinding. What does it matter as long as it gets done?” She was trying for defiance, but in the end the question just sounded pleading. 

Sam ran a hand down his face. “You heard me say you were to take turns.”

“Yes sir. But - it will hurt her. I don't mind, please.”

“Panda, come here.”

She stepped closer to him, flinching when he took hold of her elbow. “Hold on to my arm. Now.” She reached up, gripping his left arm, and he brought his other hand down on her bottom. Alex winced and looked away. Panda whimpered and buried her face in his sleeve, trying to keep still and quiet. After a dozen brisk smacks, he stopped.

His voice was gentle. “I know it sucks that she's in pain. I know it hurts us too and we wish we could fix it. But right now the pain is part of the lesson and you're not helping her by trying to get her out of her punishment.”

Panda's eyes dropped to glare at the ground. “She already got whipped. That's just mean.”

“Panda, look at me.” Sam's voice sharpened. “I've had it up to here today. We have got to finish this. If you can't understand, you're just going to have to trust Dean and me; we love Alex and we have her best interest in mind. You will obey me or you'll get a real spanking and it still won't change the fact that Alex has to do her share of the work.”

Panda teared up like she hadn't from the swats, but her tone was still angry. “Yessir.”

Sam squeezed her elbow gently and let go. She made her way back over to the table trying not to make eye contact with either of them.

Carefully, Alex reached out her hand to Panda’s, brushing it softly. Her heart clenched and her stomach felt hollow, hearing how much she’d hurt Sam and Panda. “It’s okay,” she said, voice quiet. “Sam’s right, I deserve it.”

Panda quickly wiped her eyes then looked up at her shyly. She glanced over to see Sam had given them some privacy before turning back to Alex, matching her tone. “I shouldn't have done that, I could have got you in even more trouble. I still don't like it, but I don't want to make you feel worse.” She sniffed and pushed the mortar over to her. “You can just make sure to pick whatever you think will be easiest. I'll do the bones and stuff. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks,” Alex said, but she picked up the nutmeg, knowing it wouldn’t be easy at all. One look at Sam had been all it took. The pain she’d seen in his eyes had been the same in Dean’s. She’d hurt them both, betrayed them both, with her behavior. Fulfilling her punishment was the only thing she could do to make things right. 

She put the nutmeg in the mortar and picked up the pestle. They were hard marble and she knew there would be no give on her already aching hand. Still, she did the work, pressing the pestle into the nutmeg, grinding more pain into her palm. The coolness of the mortar’s marble on her fingers offered a false relief and she switched hands frequently, but Dean’s punishment was calculated. The throbbing in her muscles, in her bones, just grew stronger and eventually she couldn’t stop the tears from filling her eyes. She wiped them away with her shoulder. 

She heard another wet sniff, but it wasn't hers. Panda's voice sounded choked, “Sam, please.”

Sam came over and assessed the situation. He spoke to Alex first. “You're almost done with the nutmeg. Finish that and I'll switch with you.” He turned to Panda, guiding her by the shoulders to another table. “Here. Calm down; Alex is fine. I want you to measure and package these, okay?” He cupped the back of her neck, whispering something Alex couldn't catch before kissing her head and heading back to Alex's table. 

Alex looked up at him, ignoring the agony in her hands. “It’s okay, Sam. You don’t need to switch with me, I can do it,” she insisted. 

“I know you can, but that's not what your instructions are. We'll switch every ingredient.” He gripped her shoulder briefly and moved to finish measuring what she'd already ground up. 

She worked quietly beside him, holding in her tears now, trying to ignore the pain, hide the redness that was only growing. But it was too hard, her fear that it was getting worse not better overwhelming her, and silent tears streamed down her face. 

Sam kept his focus on the task in front of him, pausing only to murmur, “It's okay to cry, Alex. Just keep going.”

“I’m not…” she sniffed, wiping at her tears with her shoulder. “I’m just scared John’s gonna see,” she whispered. 

He looked up at her then. “You know Dean and I promised we wouldn’t let Dad punish you. Dad promised too.”

“I know,” Alex said, but she really wasn’t sure how much she trusted the boys _could_ stop their father if he truly insisted. She looked at the marks on her hands. “I still don’t want him to see.”

Sam frowned. “That's one of the reasons we're taking turns, yeah? We'll take care of you, Alex. All you have to worry about is obeying.”

“Yeah,” she said, eyes glinting with her teasing smile. “Your strong suit, huh?”

He chuckled in surprise. “I'll give you that. My dad and I were always butting heads growing up. I could never just keep my mouth shut and do what I was told. His whoopins only made me more mad, not that it ever saved my butt.”

She grimaced at the image. “I’m sorry I let you down, Sam. Going after Dean and Tosca. Spying when I shouldn’t have.”

He nodded. “I forgive you. I . . . I know I'm not Dean, but if there's anything I can do to help with whatever’s going on, I'd do it in a heartbeat. You know that, don't you?” 

_I know I’m not Dean._ The words played over in her ear. They tugged at her heart. “You know I don’t…” _love_ “...care about you any less than I do Dean. It’s just, different.” She looked up, unsure. “Right?”

He gave her a small smile. “I do know. You and Dean speak the same language sometimes. It doesn't hurt my feelings or - I just wanted to make sure you knew that maybe I can't read you like he can, but I care about you - so much - and I'll do my best, you know?”

“I know that Sam, I do.” She finished the last crumble of nutmeg and immediately pulled her hands back, cupping them, blowing on them gently. “Fuck, they hurt,” she said, more to herself than Sam, but she laughed through her embarrassment. “I’ll tell ya something, you threaten to strap my hands again and you can bet I’ll shape up. I’d rather take a lickin’ any day.”

Sam attempted to cover up his distress at her pain and laugh with her. “I bet.” He reached for the mortar and dumped the last of the nutmeg into the container. “My turn. It'll take me a sec to have something for you to measure, so you can just sit and wait.”

“Okay.”

They continued in that fashion, for the most part in amicable silence, switching jobs whenever they had finished the next ingredient. Finally they looked around and realized they were done. 

Sam stood and stretched before glancing at his phone. “We did it. Good job, girls. Panda, you're free to go. Alex, Dean wants to see you in his room.”

Alex froze. Adrenaline suddenly rushed like fire through her veins. “Why?” she asked, voice shaking. The throbbing in her hands began to pulse. The burning in her backside flared. Threat of more punishments flooded her mind. Dean wanted her in the corner, over his knee, he was going to call John, tell Tosca...

Sam put a hand on her shoulder, his face alarmed. “Alex, hey! Whatever you're thinking, that's not it. Your punishment is over. You did it, you're done. Jeez, kid, I didn't mean to freak you out. C'mon, I'll take you.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to breathe, letting his strong hand calm her as he guided her down the hallway. 

Sam knocked once on the partially open door and pushed it open. Dean was sitting in the desk chair, he had it pulled around facing the bed and he'd set a few things out on the nightstand. His eyebrows raised when he saw Sam, but Sam shook his head and left with a small squeeze to Alex's shoulder. 

Dean's attention turned to Alex. “C'mere, up on the bed.” He motioned to the spot right in front of him. 

Alex hesitated, looking around. She saw a bowl and a towel, and some kind of tube sitting next to it. “Sam said we were done,” she said carefully as she sat down in front of him.

“Sam also told you we weren't going to let you be punished by Dad, right?”

Alex blushed. Sam and Dean talked to each other too much. “Yes.”

“I don't think he _would_ get after you about something you'd already been punished for, but I wanted to make sure the marks were gone, so we both can trust that.” It was his turn to look a little embarrassed. “Plus, I didn't like that and I want to fix what I can now that it's over.” He picked up the bowl and held it between them. “Give me your hand.”

She did as she was told, letting him take care of her. He placed her hand gently in the cool epsom salt bath, letting her soak, sometimes trickling water soothingly just to feel like he was doing something. It felt amazing and Alex just let the feeling soak through her. “You know, I didn’t like it either, Dean,” she said lightly as they sat together, “but I did deserve it. You don’t want me to feel guilty for asking for it when I want it. I don’t want you to feel guilty for taking care of me like that when I need it.”

His face showed a hundred different emotions, all of them overwhelming with care for her. He touched her cheek lightly. “Okay. Although this is me you're talking to; askin’ me not to feel guilty is a little like asking me to stop breathing.” He smirked at her.

Alex laughed softly. “You should do something about that,” she quipped. 

“Something like keeping too-smart little sisters around to knock sense into me?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged with a grin. “Something like that.” She pulled her hand out of the water before it wrinkled like a prune.

Dean held out the towel and gently pat her hand dry. “I guess that's not too bad then. I like having you around. Next.” He held out his hand. 

She let him lower her other hand into the water, let the warmth and the salt ease away the pain and redness. 

When it was done soaking, he dried it as he had the other and returned the bowl to the nightstand, picking up the tube of ointment. “Hold them both out for me.”

Alex did as he asked, raising her palms to him once again. This time though, when she looked in his eyes, she saw nothing but love.

He smoothed the ointment over her palms, rubbing it in as gently as he could. “That's better.” He cupped her hands in his, examining his work. “You shouldn't be able to see anything by the time Dad gets back.” He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before releasing her and standing. 

“Thank you, Dean.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “For everything.”

He reached down, hugging her to him. “Anytime, kiddo. Why don't you see if you can take a nap.” He let go with one arm and gestured at the bed. “I don't mind and that had to have been an exhausting couple hours. I'll come wake you when dinner's ready.”

“Okay.” She watched him go, then took off her shoes and slipped into the bed, under the covers. Dean’s scent on his sheets and his pillow enveloped her. It felt safe. Safer than she had felt in a very long time. Safe enough to drift off to sleep before she could even really think about why. 


	4. 9 days ‘til Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you all for reading. There seemed to be a drop off last chapter, but I have faith it was just a tough week for everyone and you’ll all be back this week! As was noted last chapter, Edge and Tosca may not be on the author list for the story/chapter, and therefore may not have notifications for each chapter go out to their readers, so please be sure to set your notifications for the story itself or for CrazedPanda or AlexoftheBunker. We don’t want you to miss anything!

* * *

The door to the bunker was thrown open and John called in a cheery voice, “Where are my girls? I brought you something!” 

All the girls but Alex met him in the War Room, Sam and Dean following close behind. John was beaming at them and proudly standing next to an evergreen tree sitting in a festive metal tree stand. It was shapely and not too tall, maybe just passing the five foot mark. “Found this pretty little fir and thought I'd bring it home as a surprise; how about that!” 

Panda and Tosca hesitated, but John's excitement was infectious and they came up to hug and thank him and admire the tree. 

He went on. “And there's some more stuff in the car, hang on.”

He went back out and returned carrying some bags. “Tosca, I remembered you said your family used to use popcorn strings to decorate the tree, so I got the stuff for that, and Panda, I know you were talking about how your family had a nutcracker and would keep a basket of nuts out for everyone to snack on during the holidays. Edge, I thought this angel looked a little like Castiel, I had to get him for you. I got a few packages of ornaments, too. Dean, why don't you make everyone some hot cocoa and we can start popping some popcorn; get this tree decorated, what do you say? Somebody grab Alex, where is she?”

“She’s supposed to be going over a carton of files we found in the storage, said she’d work in her room,” Sam replied. “I’ll go check on her.”

John nodded and opened one of the ornament packages. “Do that. So, girls, wanna see what we got here?”

“Uh, sir?” Edge wasn’t all that comfortable disturbing John with this, but she really needed to. 

John looked up from the box at Edge. “Yeah?”

“I left your window on the Advent calender closed,” she was twisting the hem of her shirt a bit with the fingers of one hand. “You know, so you can open it.”

The corners of his mouth turned up some. “I said you can do it for me.”

“Yeah, I know, but… it’s not the same. I want everybody in on it, so it can be like our thing, like… a family thing?”

John was smiling wider now. “I see. That _would_ be nice. Okay then, I’ll go take care of that.” He turned just as Sam walked back into the room holding a heavy paper file.

“Dad, I think you should look at what was in the files Alex was sorting.”

“What is it?” John took it out of Sam’s outstretched hand.

“Looks like another report on the testing the Men of Letters did with the plasma detector, except it’s from ten years earlier, wasn’t filed with the rest of them and there seems to be pages missing.” 

John opened the file and scanned it, turned a page, then another. 

Sam looked over at Edge. “You mind hopping over to the kitchen to help Dean bring the hot cocoa in here? He might try to handle all the mugs by himself, and you can guess how _that_ could turn out.”

“And start popping that popcorn!” Tosca called as she tossed a bag of kernels at Edge.

Edge grabbed the bag and looked at John. He was still scanning the pages in the file, brow creasing slightly. “Yeah, okay,” she said.

Dean was pouring the hot cocoa into the mugs as she walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said. “Couldn’t wait for this? I don’t blame you. My hot cocoa is the best around, Sam used to go crazy for it when he was a kid. Not many people know this, but the secret is a pinch of salt, brings out the flavors. Probably could help take care of demons, if you happen to be possessed at the time.”

She couldn’t help the grin while she poured the kernels into the popcorn machine. “I came to help you carry it back.”

“Right. So you wanna carry three mugs? I can handle four.”

“See, that’s why Sam thought I should come help out.” She searched the cupboard for the trays, took one out and raised it to show it to Dean. “No burning out your hands and no spilling on the floor. I can take the drinks back, can you get the popcorn when it’s done?”

“Oh, the popcorn.” The way Dean’s eyes lit up made Edge doubt if the entire batch was going to make it to the War Room. She would have stayed and make sure that Dean wasn’t snacking on too much of it, but she wanted to get back to John and see whether he was ready to open his Advent window. There were enough kernels to last them well into New Year’s, anyway.

She carefully carried the loaded tray back to the war room, where the others crowded around to each take a cup.

“That smells good,” Panda commented.

“Did Dean let you in on his secret?” Sam asked.

“What, the pinch of salt?” Edge asked.

Sam smiled as he took a sip. “Yeah. Well, that and the occasional shot of rum.”

John lifted one of the cups while tucking the file under his arm. “I’ll take this over to Alex, I need to talk to her anyway, see if she can find other files like this one in the box. Be right back.”

Edge was about to call after him to remind him about the calendar but thought better of it. He said he’d be right back. _Don’t be a nag_ , she chanted to herself, but she still kept her eyes on the door while the girls started threading the popcorn for the tree decorations.

John was back ten minutes later, and Edge started rising from her seat, except John wasn’t even looking in her direction.

“That was a good catch,” he told Sam as he reached for his discarded cup of cocoa. “I think you and Alex should look into it. Were there other file cartons in the storage?”

“Yeah, like a dozen of them.”

John nodded and sipped from his mug. “Damn, it’s already cold.”

“I’ll heat it up for you,” Edge suggested, coming to his side and reaching for the cup.

“Would you, darlin’? That’s sweet of you.”

She smiled, and tried her best not to sound too annoying. “Maybe in the meantime you can get that window of yours?”

John slapped his forehead lightly. “Right! The window. I’m on it.”

Except when she came back with the heated-up cup of cocoa, he was on the phone. She stole into the telescope room where she had set up the Advent calendar - they had figured it was best not to have it in Alex’s face in the public spaces - but sure enough, the window she had assigned for John was still closed.

She marched back into the war room and to John's side. He smiled at her as he reached for the mug, but his attention was obviously devoted to the phone he was holding to his ear.

“Yeah, Rufus, I know it sounds like a zombie, but I'm not so sure. See-” he sipped while turning away. Edge watched him stroll toward the library, cup in one hand, phone in the other.

“Edge, are you helping us or what?” Panda called from behind her.

“Yeah, if you’re not making the strings, you can watch the bowl so Dean doesn’t steal all the popcorn,” Tosca added.

“Hey!” Dean looked up from the communication desk where he’d been fiddling with something that looked like a busted-up radio. “I ate, like, three pieces of popcorn!”

“You inhaled half the bowl,” Panda retorted. She glanced at Edge. “Mind making another batch?”

John was _still_ on the phone; Edge could hear the rumble of his voice drifting from the library. She sighed. “Sure, I’ll do it.”

Back in the kitchen, she stared at the kernels dancing inside the popcorn machine and took the time to try and breathe. _He’s a busy man, they all are. They’re not trying to hurt your feelings, they’re just busy._ But the logic did little to soothe the bubble of anger in the pit of her stomach. She could feel it bloating like the growing heap of popped kernels and forced it down. _They’re busy, that’s all._

She came back to the war room at the same time John walked in from the library.

“Dean, I want you to head out,” he said. “Rufus handed a case over to this new hunter, and the guy seems to be in over his head. He can’t get the facts straight for Rufus to guide him through or even figure out what he’s up against, and Rufus asked us to step in before the knucklehead gets himself killed. We’d be there faster than Rufus, it’s about two hours drive from here, and Rufus is working his own case down south. Take Edge with you, in the meantime I’ll get Sam to try and wring something more coherent out of that idiot.”

Dean stood up. “Yes, sir. You’re gonna fill me in about what Rufus knows so far?”

“Yeah, he should also be texting me the guy’s contact info and current location.” John’s phone beeped and he looked down at it. “There it is. Hold on, I’ll send it to you.”

Dean looked at Edge, still standing there with the bowl. “You wanna grab your gear? No, wait a sec.” He grabbed one of the shopping bags filled with decorations off the table, emptied out its contents and then sauntered over to Edge and took the bowl out of her hands. “Road snacks,” he said, grinning, as he poured the popcorn into the bag. He handed the bowl back to Edge. “Go, I’ll meet you in the garage.”

She looked at John, who was still typing on his phone, then at Dean, who was walking to the desk to grab his own phone, then at Tosca and Panda, who had resumed threading the popcorn and chattering. She drew a breath and forced the bloating bubble back some more. Then she made her way out of the war room.

* * *

  
Tosca went into the kitchen to retrieve the goodies that she’d bought as a peace offering for Alex. John had put a halt to the majority of the decorating endeavor until the others could be there, and she decided to take the opportunity to put her plan in action. She bustled around opening cabinets and drawers and arranged everything on a tray, then walked down the hallway to Alex’s room. She felt a little nervous, unsure of how she was going to be received, but she knew that chocolate usually helped make her feel better when she was feeling hurt. She had some of Alex’s favorite foods and figured that it might help her apology if she had some treats to give Alex.

She tapped on the door and entered the room when Alex called, “Come in.”

Alex looked up from where she was sitting cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by file folders and stacks of papers. Her eyes flashed first with surprise, then narrowed with suspicion. “Hey,” she said cautiously. “Sorry, thought you were Sam or John.”

Tosca shut the door carefully behind her. “Uh, hi,” she said uncomfortably. “Want to, um, take a break?” She walked over to the bed and lowered the tray so that Alex could see what was on it: a half-gallon of gourmet coffee ice cream with two bowls and two spoons set to the side, and a large chocolate caramel candy bar next to it. 

“I brought plenty of napkins too, don’t want to end up with a sore butt if Sam sees this,” she said, trying to make a joke. 

“Yeah,” Alex said, her cheeks becoming rosy. She fisted her hands instinctively. “I think we’ve both had enough of that for a little while.”

“This is, um, for you... to say… to say that I’m sorry for what happened before, with the, y’know, the elf and all.” Tosca glanced around the room, a slight blush rising in her cheeks, and then she settled her gaze on Alex.

“Yeah,” Alex said again. She looked at Tosca for a long time without saying anything. Tosca didn’t know what was going through her head, but a multitude of emotions seemed to flash across Alex’s face. Finally, she seemed to land on forgiveness. “I know… I know you didn’t mean it. Not like I took it anyway. I’m sorry I went after you.”

“I’m sorry I called you a bitch… and everything. I mean, I was--” Tosca shifted uncomfortably, her blush deepening. “You were acting… kinda grumpy and I didn’t understand why, and it seemed like everyone was bending over backwards to make sure you didn’t get upset.” She cleared her throat. “And I, well, I… I felt kinda jealous.” Her confession was quiet. “And so I did the thing with the paddle, I mean I thought it would be a good joke but I _was_ doing it a little bit out of jealousy. But after Dean and I--had our, uh, _talk,_ he explained that you were having a hard time right now.” Tosca’s eyes became shiny with tears. “I didn’t realize that, I didn’t know, otherwise I wouldn’t have done that, I swear! I didn’t-- the last thing I want to do is hurt any of you, so I’m sorry!” Her chin was trembling and she blinked rapidly to prevent the tears in her eyes from falling.

Alex was quiet a second, then sighed. “Look, Tosca, it’s fine. It’s done with. Dean laid into both of us, let’s just… forget it. Okay?” Barely looking at her, Alex went back to her papers. “I’ve um… I’ve got to get back to these. The guys’ll want them ASAP.”

“Um… well…” The way Alex seemed to be brushing her off confused Tosca. She raised the tray. “You sure? I got your favorite, Haagen-Dazs Coffee.” She attempted to smile enticingly. “Want me to serve you some?”

Alex seemed like she was trying to smile but it came out more like a grimace. “I wish I could but I’ve already had Sam and John in here making sure I’m working and if Dean comes in next seeing me eating ice cream-”

“Oh, Dean’s not here,” Tosca said. “He and Edge went out on a case, it’s a quick one.”

Alex’s eyes immediately snapped into something dark and dangerous. “I’m sorry, they what?”

Tosca frowned slightly, confused at the change in Alex’s demeanor. “They went out on a quick case, John told them to.”

Alex didn’t listen anymore. She rushed out of bed, seemingly not even caring when the papers and folders went spilling onto the floor, and flew out to the war room.

Tosca followed Alex, her progress slowed by having to balance the tray and make sure nothing fell off of it. She arrived just in time to catch Alex storm over to John, coming nearly face to face. “You sent Dean and Edge out on a hunt?” To Tosca, her voice seemed pure rage. 

John's frozen shock lasted only a moment. His eyes became hooded and cautious, and he took on a defensive stance.

Tosca set the tray down on a table. “Alex? What’s the big deal?” Tosca asked evenly. 

With John offering her nothing but silence, Alex turned her rage on Tosca. “What’s the big deal?” She spat. “So now suddenly Christmas means nothing to you?”

Tosca frowned. “What--what does Christmas have to do with going on a hunt?” 

John stepped between them, facing Alex. “Hey! Calm down. Tosca, hang on a second. Alex, do you want to explain to me what the hell is going on? Yes, I sent them to help some greenie who's set to get himself killed trying to work a simple milk run of a case. Am I supposed to ask your permission now?” 

“It’s nine fucking days before Christmas and there’s no such thing as a milk run, you stupid son of a bitch! Where the hell did you send them? Do they even know what they’re fighting? Do they have the right research? Or did you just send them out to get killed?”

John's eyes blazed, but other than a muscle in his jaw, he stood completely still. When she was done, he spoke, his voice lethally calm and quiet. “You are completely outta line. You want answers, you can try speaking to me with some respect next time. Sam, I assume you're gonna deal with this?” He looked over her head to where Sam was suddenly standing. 

Sam's face showed a mixture of shock and anger. “Yes, sir. I'll handle it.”

“No!” Alex yelled and she ran off in the direction of the garage. 

Sam took a deep breath and followed Alex. John looked after them, his eyes narrowed and shoulders still tense. 

Tosca felt shocked at Alex’s outburst towards John- no-one swore like that at him. The hurt she had felt over Alex’s refusal to accept her apology had turned to anger after Alex had yelled at her. Her emotions became all tangled, and she clenched her hands into fists at her sides and tensed her jaw. She wanted to throw something and scream, but knew that that would not be a good course of action.

Panda looked around the corner. “Um, is everyone okay?” 

Tosca rolled her eyes. “Alex just pitched another fit and ran out of here. I’m so _done_ with it, honestly!” 

Panda winced. “I, uh, I heard some of it. I came when I heard the shouting.”

Tosca folded her arms over her chest. “Yeah… why is it that Alex gets to yell and cuss everyone out, and it’s perfectly okay, but nobody else can?” 

John rounded on Tosca, looking thunderous. “Alex is finding out just how far from ‘okay’ her behavior was as we speak -”

“Sure she is,” Tosca scoffed. It wasn't fair that Alex wasn't going to be punished by John-- Sam and his big paw was probably going to be smacking her butt, but _still_ , getting punished by the Winchester patriarch was a bigger deal!

John looked disbelieving at her for only a brief second. “You want to sass me too, little girl? Really?! You got two choices right now: you can march yourself over here or make me come get you, and believe me, you'll want to take the first option.” He pointed directly in front of him. 

Tosca gaped at him. “Are you _serious?_ I didn’t sass you, I barely said anything! This is _bullshit,_ I’m done with _all of this!”_ She waved at John and Panda and turned to leave the room, stumbling into a chair that had been left pulled out from a table. 

John was on her that quickly, a hand clamped down her arm. Almost as quickly as that he was sitting in that chair with her upended over one knee giving about a dozen hard slaps to her rear.

Tosca screeched, “No, let me up!” as soon as her stomach landed on his thigh, her anger fuelling her as she attempted to escape. But as his heavy hand began to fall, she immediately stopped her struggles. The stinging slaps took her breath away as she realized she was over John Freaking Winchester’s knee and you did _not_ struggle while he was roasting your butt! 

He stopped, breathing hard for several long moments. Then he took another deep breath and stood Tosca on her feet holding her hands to steady her between his knees. He looked her sternly in the eye. “We aren't done here, Miss Tosca. If you had obeyed and taken what you had coming, you would have had a few swats and been done with it, but you wanted to make this a full spanking so here we are.” 

Tosca tried to pull away from him. “This is SO not fair, Alex is the one who threw a fit, and I’m the one getting punished for it? Screw this!” She yanked her arm, trying to get out of John’s grasp. Even though she was still angry, tears blurred her eyes.

John's calm was stark compared to how angry he'd been just moments before. It made him even more scary as he answered her in a low, level, voice. “You're welcome to try to explain to me how it's unfair. You know the rules; you know how you're supposed to talk to me. Someone else's behavior has never been an adequate excuse for choosing to act up yourself. You're getting punished for what you did. Alex _is_ getting punished for what she did, but that's none of your business. Let's look at what is your business: you spoke disrespectfully to me, you cussed at me, and you disobeyed a direct order.”

Normally this list of transgressions would have had Tosca shaking in her shoes and ready to throw herself on her knees, begging for forgiveness, but she was still feeling too riled up from everything, and she didn’t feel like she wanted to back down. She set her jaw and glared at John.

He took in her seething anger and nodded. He stood up still holding her by the hands and led her over closer to the table. “I think you need some time to calm down and think about things before we deal with this. So -”

He dropped one of her hands and tugged her pants and underwear down to just under her no-doubt pink bottom. Then he bent her over the table. “You're going to stay just like that. We'll give it ten minutes; I'll be right here. You move, I'll swat your butt and your ten minutes starts over.”

Tosca turned to look up at him, reaching back to try and pull her panties back up, her face reddening with embarrassment. “I’m not-- you-- you can’t make--”

“You'll find I can, Tosca.” He picked up her hand and swatted the back of it before putting it on the table in front of her. It didn't really hurt, but it just added to the embarrassment of the situation. 

“I’m not going to stay like this for _ten minutes!”_ She exclaimed with outrage, sensing that she was losing ground with the Winchester patriarch looming behind her. 

“And that's fine. You heard me say what my response will be if you choose to move before you're told.”

The reality of the situation flooded Tosca right then--she was in for it, but good; her pants and underwear were down far enough that if she tried to get up and run, she’d be effectively hobbled, and John would just be able to grab her again; and John Winchester was standing behind her, waiting to wallop her butt. She’d be lucky if she could sit comfortably by Christmas. She put her head down on the table, focusing on the sensations around her-- the ticking of a clock or an electronic device, the feeling of the hard wood of the table on her forehead, the waft of cool air on her bare bottom--and oh God, she was bent over a table with her bottom bared for a spanking, what the hell had she gotten herself into? Tears came to her eyes as humiliation washed over her from having to wait in this undignified position.

A soft voice, too quiet for her to catch the words, were nonetheless enough to make her remember Panda had been in the room seeing the whole thing. 

Tosca wrapped her arm around her head as tears of shame and humiliation started to drip down her face onto the table. 

“What was that?” John hadn't been able to hear what she'd said either, apparently. 

Panda cleared her throat. “Can I go, please?” Her voice had a small tremor in it. 

“You may.”

Her voice was a little louder as if she wanted to make sure Tosca could hear. “I wasn't looking or anything. I didn't know if I was allowed to leave.”

“Of course,” John said. “I'm sorry, Panda.” The sound of her footsteps disappeared down the hall. 

Tosca shifted her weight from one foot to the other, but all that did was make her focus on the fact that she could feel her clothing bunched around her thighs and that her rear end was bared, and waiting to be punished. And oh crap, she had messed up so badly, and she was in so much trouble, and it wasn’t with Dean, or Sam, it was with _John._ Her chest hitched as she tried to keep the sob in so he wouldn’t suspect that she was already crying. 

A warm, solid hand settled on the small of her back. “Stand up, Tosca.”

Tosca obeyed, giving her wet face a quick swipe with the back of her hand. 

“It's not ten minutes yet, but you seemed like you'd had enough of that.” He stood at the table close beside her, taking in her tear-streaked face, and she could see sympathy and concern in his eyes.

“Thank you, sir,” she muttered, lowering her head like a disgraced child.

He touched her chin, turning her face toward him, and gently raising her eyes back to his. “I need to start with an apology. I shouldn't have tried to deal with you when I was so mad, even if I thought I had it under control. We _both_ needed a time out and I should have made that call sooner.” 

“I--I’m sorry too,” tears began to fall again, and Tosca’s voice shook, “I was pissed off and-- and just frustrated at everything, and I--I shouldn’t have said those things, I was so rude, I’m sorry!” Her chest hitched again as she tried to maintain control and not give in to the sobs that wanted to erupt. 

“Hey, I forgive you, kid. C'mere.” He gently pulled her around and wrapped her up in a bear hug.

She threw her arms around his middle and buried her face in his flannel chest, allowing the sobs to finally come. 

His soothing murmur came to her ear. “We're gonna take care of it, sweetheart, you'll live, and you'll still be my girl. Nothing can change that, you hear me?”

She tilted her head back and looked up at him. “I--I will? I w-was so awful to you...m’sorry!” 

His eyes sparkled with humor. “You will survive, or you're still my girl?”

She blushed and dropped her eyes, squirming with embarrassment. “Still...your girl?” Her voice was hesitant.

He sat down in the chair pulling her close so he could look her directly in the eye. “You _are_ my girl. That doesn't change. Even when you're my bratty girl who needs to be spanked. Won't change that fact. Ever. Got that?”

Tosca’s blush deepened and she nodded. “Yes, sir.” She sighed. “I--I deserve it.” 

“You _were_ asking for it, kiddo. I appreciate the apology, though, and I forgive you ahead of time. Reach over and hand me that ruler off the table. I was gonna do it there, but we'll just do it over my lap.”

Tosca swallowed uneasily. “R-ruler? Do you--do you h-have to?” 

“I think you know the answer to that, little girl. C'mon now. Show me you're sorry by obeying.”

Tosca leaned over and picked up the ruler, handing it to him, and then looked questioningly at John and then his lap. He nodded, and she draped herself over his thighs.

She wrapped one arm around his calf and grabbed on to one of the chair rungs, closing her eyes and waiting. 

She felt the ruler laid flat across the fullest curve of her cheeks. It disappeared for a brief second and then came down, leaving a stripe of stinging pain.

She flinched and cried out, holding on tighter to the chair.

Two more strikes followed, searing the top of her bottom. She gasped and managed to stifle the cry that wanted to escape. 

The next three swats were delivered to the center of her bottom.

“Aahh!” She exclaimed, and her foot kicked out as a response to the pain. The ruler was set against her thigh in warning. “Keep those feet down, Tosca.”

“Yes sir, I’m sorry!” She gasped.

He brought the ruler down three more times, targeting the undercurve of her cheeks. 

She couldn’t help it, her feet pushed against the floor, trying to shift her hips out of the way and get out of the line of fire. 

The ruler came snapping down once on each thigh - he didn't use as much force as he'd been using smacking her bottom, but they stung. He then threw his other leg over hers, effectively trapping them. 

“Ow, ow!” She wailed. 

“Next time you're mad at somebody else, you're not gonna take it out on me, are you?”

“No, sir, I’m s- sorry!”

He brought the ruler down twice on the top of her bottom - he'd changed techniques, striking each cheek individually instead of both at once. 

“Aah! Ow!” She gasped at the surprise of the wood striking each side.

“You're not going to speak disrespectfully or cuss at me, either - that's unacceptable, Tosca.” He paused, waiting for her to reply.

“No, sir, I’m s-sorry, sir,” Her reply was subdued.

The ruler cracked down, right, left, on the center of her bottom. 

Tosca tried unsuccessfully to stifle her cries, but when the ruler landed on the middle of her rear she cried out.

“And you obey me - always. You don't try to run from me when you've earned a spanking.”

“Y-yes sir, I--I don’t know what I was thinking!” She wailed, tears starting to drip from her eyes again.

The last two snapped down sharply on either sit spot.

She sucked in a breath from the impact of the ruler on her tender sit spots and whimpered.

Then she heard the ruler clatter to the floor and he started swatting her with his hand all over her bottom. He wasn't harsh, but over the marks left by the ruler it hurt, and the relentless smacks kept coming, keeping her guessing where the next will land. 

Tosca tried to struggle for just a moment at the renewed pain flaring all over her rear end, but as the swats continued to fall randomly, she went limp, accepting her fate. “Pleeease, I’m s-s-sorryyyy!” She wailed, clutching John’s leg tighter and pressing her face into the denim of his jeans. 

He kept peppering her bottom for a little longer until she was crying steadily and then the smacks started falling even lighter, keeping up a warm sting as she wept softly over his knee. 

Finally, he stopped and began to gently rub her back. “Alright. Alright, sweetheart. You're done.”

She let her tears wash away the shame she’d felt, and relaxed at the soothing feeling of John’s hand traveling across her back.

He let her cry for a few minutes before helping her up into his lap. Letting her sore bottom hang over his knee, he cupped the back of her head close to him and kept the fingers of his other hand trailing over her back, while murmuring soothingly into her ear. “You did real good, Tosca. I know you're sorry. We're all good now.”

She leaned on his chest and her arms found their way around his torso again. She buried her face in his flannel and continued to cry for a few minutes more, letting the hurt and confusion from earlier go as the tears poured down her cheeks. John just held her through it, falling silent and letting her cry. He started to sway slightly while continuing to soothe his hand up and down her back.

Tosca wiped her eyes with her hand. “I--I don’t understand why Alex is still acting mad, I brought her chocolate and ice cream, and the ice cream is getting all melted now, I just want her to like me and for everyone to get along…”

“Sweetheart,” John's voice steadied her, stopping her rambling. “Whatever just happened with Alex had nothing to do with you, I promise. Just like your tantrum had nothing to do with me. Sometimes when you're that upset and you can't get at what's really eating you, you just blow up at whoever's closest - even when that person is someone you care about. It's not right or fair, but it happens to the best of us. Let's see if we can save the ice cream, and if it's really all ruined, I'll take you to get some more. You can try again another day. That was really sweet of you to think of.” He helped her up and took the tray back into the kitchen. Tosca followed after she had righted her clothes. 

She found him peering into the ice cream carton. “It's a bit melted. I will say if you did something so thoughtful for me, my temper would be the only thing melting. Maybe we can find something to do with this, and then get another one to help you make up with Alex?” He handed her one of the spoons with a wink.

Tosca smiled happily at him and dipped her spoon in the carton. “I think there’s a blender in the cabinets, we could make milkshakes, since the ice cream is soft.” She ate another spoonful.

“There ya go. If we're gonna make milkshakes, we'll need chocolate syrup and whipped cream and I bet there are some other goodies in here. How about I get the stuff out and you go get Panda, show her you're not dead. I think she could use a milkshake, too, and there should be enough.”

“All right!” Tosca left the kitchen to find her friend, feeling lighter and happier about everything.

* * *

  
Sam took a beat as he reached the door to the garage. In the face of Alex’s anger, it would be important for him to keep his cool. He walked in and his eyes searched her out in the dim garage.

Alex appeared caught between fury and terror, snatching a set of keys off the wall and hitting the garage door opener. She stormed off in the direction of a 1950 Buick Eight. 

Sam reversed the garage door and leaned against the wall, waiting to see what her response was going to be when she realized. He wasn't going to shout so she could hear him, since he didn't want her to just take it as him shouting _at_ her.

She twisted around and charged him. “What the hell, Sam! Let me go!” She reached for the opener. 

He gripped her forearms and spoke in a level tone. “Absolutely not. You're not acting rationally, Alex. You have no idea where they even are. What exactly is your plan here?”

“I don’t know.” She seemed flustered, but it did nothing to halt her momentum. “Doesn’t matter, I need to find them.” She pulled against his grip. 

He held firm and searched her face, equal parts concerned and confused. Her eyes were unfocused, staring through him. He didn't know what had set it off, but she was panicking. She couldn't hear him, not really; there was no way to reason with her in this state. 

He hardened his voice, hoping it came across as unshakable, grounding. “Alex. You aren't going anywhere like this. We're going to wait till you're calm, and then we'll talk. Come inside.” He made sure he had a good grip on one elbow and dropped her other arm, before attempting to lead her back through into the bunker.

“No, Sam!” She struggled against his hold. “You have to let me go, they’re gonna get killed!”

Sam stopped in his tracks, looking at her intently. “Alex? Why would you say that?”

She froze, staring up at him like she just realized what she’d said. Her hands were shaking, and she curled them into fists to stop them. “Forget it,” she hissed, stealing a glance back at the garage door. “I’m fine.” 

Sam frowned. This whole thing had started with Alex cussing out his dad and somehow had become even more of a mess - something he wouldn't have dreamed possible. There was too much to try to delve into right now. Triage, Sam: right now, getting her calm and in a better place to talk and listen was the most important thing. 

“You aren't acting _fine_. I'm taking you to your room. Come on.” He started walking again, hoping she would give in and at least not make him drag her the whole way. Thankfully, she did cooperate far enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other through the maze of halls to her room. She didn't hide the fact she wasn't happy about it, but he could live with that. 

When they passed close by the War Room, they could hear Tosca’s voice raised, clearly in full brat mode, and Sam winced. Pushing an already riled John Winchester wasn't something he would recommend - not that he'd never done it. There was nothing he could do about it now, anyway, he had his hands full - literally. They reached Alex's bedroom and he shut the door behind them before releasing her. 

Alex wasn't acknowledging him at all, just staring at the door like she could see through it. He walked over and took ahold of her elbow again, turned her, and walked her to the nearest corner of the room with his other hand between her shoulder blades. “Corner. Stay there until you're released.” He hoped his steady voice was soothing, but he honestly didn't know how much she was registering right now. He let go of her and stepped away, returning to his position in front of the door.

It was only a minute before her posture changed, her shoulders squared, her chin raised, and she pushed herself away from the wall. “You can’t do this, Sam,” she said turning to him. Fire had erupted in her eyes again and she stepped toward him. “You have to let me go.”

“You're not going anywhere right now, except back in the corner. You can do it yourself or I can put you back there, that's your only choice in the matter.” 

“This is bullshit! John just sent them out on a hunt, like it was nothing!”

“Alex. We can talk when you're ready to be reasonable. Get your nose back in the corner.”

She glared at him like he was a wall between her and Dean and it sent a shiver up his spine. 

“Screw you,” she said. 

Sam let his sigh of disappointment show a little. He'd had a feeling it would come to this. He walked forward and spun her, pinning her arms behind her with one hand, while the other arm cinched around her waist. He propelled her forward until her nose was back in the corner and released her waist to give her a few quick pops on her rear, hoping they would get her attention. Then he just held her there, assessing her response. 

She didn’t move. She didn’t fight but she didn’t let go either, holding her arms strong against his, keeping her head held high and her breath even. He knew this Alex; pure defiance. 

“Damn it, Alex. I am not your enemy here. I can't let you drive off with no plan - no idea of what direction you're even headed. If you just listen and let me help you get to a place where we can talk, we can figure this out. I'll help you find a way you can actually help them, because just driving in some random direction with no info and no weapons like some noob civilian? That's not going to help them, and you know it.”

Alex was stubborn but she wasn’t stupid, and he could feel the words sinking in as the tension in her body slowly released into trembling. She rested her forehead against the wall and took in a slow deep breath, letting it out just as gradually. She turned her head to the side, her eyes closed. “Okay,” she whispered. 

Sam let her hear his breath of relief. “Keep your arms behind your back and just breathe. If you need something else to focus on, run through the exorcisms I had you memorize.” He released her and stepped back. 

She folded her arms above her waist and pressed her nose to the concrete, breathing evenly, in and out. He couldn’t read her mind, but he was certain Latin was running through her head as he watched the trembling in her limbs slow. 

He glanced at the clock and sat down tentatively on the bed to wait. He ran through a couple calming exercises himself, the adrenaline from that altercation still flowing through his veins. What the hell had gotten into her? He was proud of how quickly she was bringing herself under control, but the fact she'd gone so far outside of rational out of the blue . . . and her behavior all week. It was time to get to the bottom of this, it had officially gone past the point where it was acceptable to let her handle it on her own. He would come back to that later, though. 

He peeked at the clock again before taking stock of Alex. Finding her much more relaxed and breathing normally, he addressed her, his voice low. “Come on out, Alex.” He waited for her to turn around to face him. Her lips were pressed together flat, her eyes hard. “Sit.” He gestured toward the bed a couple feet away from him. 

She glanced to the door and for a minute Sam thought she might run. But she obeyed, sitting arms crossed on her chest, one leg draped over the other. Far from contrite, Sam thought with an inward sigh, but at least obedient. 

He hesitated, not sure how she was going to take this, but he felt it needed to be said. “I wanted to start by acknowledging what it took to drag yourself back from a panic attack like that. I may have given you some tools, but _you_ did it.” He held her gaze for a moment, hoping she would see his approval and how impressed he was. But if anything registered, she didn’t show it. Sensing more words would grate on her nerves, he moved on. He'd look for a chance to bring it up again later when Alex would be more receptive of the praise. 

He cleared his throat and reached for his phone. “I texted Edge while we were waiting, she reported that she and Dean are still on the road. Everything's good. You can read the text if you want, and you can call her in a minute. We can ask her to put it on speaker so you could talk to both of them.” He tilted the phone toward her. 

She didn’t go for it though. “They get the monster yet?” Her voice was low, gravelly. 

“No, they're almost there. Another thirty minutes out from where they're meeting Rufus's contact.”

“Then I’m sorry, Sam. Not much danger driving to the monster. All the assurances in the world won’t tell me they’re safe until whatever they’re hunting is dead and they come back alive. And we shouldn’t just be sitting here hoping they do.”

Sam nodded. “You're right. That's why we're not going to be just sitting here. We're going to be giving them every advantage to make sure they come back to us. But you have no experience in the field. On the other hand, you're one of the best researchers I've ever worked with. You want to help keep them safe? Use your strengths.”

He watched her eyes soften and drift, first to the door then through it, seeing something he couldn’t. He let her be until her fists dropped to her sides, gripping tight around the comforter and her gaze grew hard again. “He shouldn’t have sent them. Not this close to Christmas.”

Sam's forehead wrinkled in confusion. That had not been the response he was expecting, to say the least. “Alex? You don't even . . . Why? Dean's gone on a hundred hunts but suddenly this one you're sure he won't be coming back? What’s Christmas have to do with anything? Can you help me understand?”

She blinked up at him, eyes growing wide like she just realized she’d said the words out loud. “No, screw this,” she said getting up off the bed, starting to pace. “Just tell me what they’re hunting.”

He gave her a calculating look. He wouldn't get anywhere trying to force the information out of her. He'd managed to convince her to redirect the energy from her anxiety into something productive. He would have to be satisfied with that for now. “I'm going to give you everything I have on the case. Two things, first. I need your word that you're not going to try to go after them again-”

“Yeah, fine, I won’t.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “Alex. If you want me to hand you the location, I'd better be fucking satisfied I'm not just giving you what you need to drive off and get yourself hurt. You look me in the eye.”

She turned on her heel and stared at him with eyes like fire. “I fucking said I wouldn’t, so I won’t!”

Sam didn't meet her anger, he was only interested in gauging her sincerity. “I've got everything we'll need on my laptop. I had already started looking into what we have so far. I'll go get it once we're done with the other thing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about your insubordination. I'm talking about the way you spoke to my dad, back there. I'm talking about the fact that if anyone else on this planet besides you tried to speak to him that way, they'd never have gotten away with it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh please, like you’ve never sworn at him.”

Sam's voice was taut. “I have. I never got away with it, either. Now I understand why. And you know very well it wasn't just that you swore at him, Alex. You were completely out of line. I get that there were - extenuating circumstances, and that will be taken into account, but I didn't see even the slightest attempt at controlling yourself back there, and I can't just let it go.” 

Alex shrugged, and for just a second, she reminded him so much of Dean. “You do what you have to do, Sam. I’m not sorry.”

He mentally shook off the distraction, and frowned at her statement, but kept his voice level. “Well, it's not my job to force you to be sorry. It's my job to provide consequences for unacceptable behavior. I'm going to make this short; as long as you cooperate, we can move on quickly. Underwear off. I want you to bend over the corner of your bed. You're going to lift your skirt and cross your arms behind your back to hold it up.”

Alex huffed, attitude set to high, but it was clear she wasn’t going to fight. Maybe, Sam thought as she slipped her underwear to the floor, in her heart, beneath everything else that was swirling around her head, she knew she deserved this. He always had. 

She obeyed him, standing at the corner of the bed, legs held tight together as she bent over and laid her torso flat. With a glare at him, she flipped her skirt up and crossed her arms behind her. 

He shook his head, squaring his shoulders; his tone turned cold. “Move forward, I want your legs spread; straddle the corner, only your toes should be touching the ground. You may not feel the remorse and shame for what you’ve done but you sure as hell will feel Dad’s embarrassment, the vulnerability and exposure of being dressed down by you, knocked off balance with absolutely nothing he could do about it.” The look his dad had pinned him with after Alex had gone off on him, well, it would have caused most demons to piss themselves in terror. Sam had seen it all on his face. His father wasn't a man used to just swallowing that kind of crap. He demanded respect, and to have to take it from his kid in his home would have been unthinkable. 

“I’m going to grab my laptop and a paddle, and while you’re waiting, you can think about how you are here because John Winchester took you in. He's the one ultimately responsible for saving your life. He would risk his life for yours - he has. You may not feel you owe him your submission, but he does not deserve your disrespect. And he _never_ would have spoken to you the way you just spoke to him - in front of an audience, no less.” 

He didn't wait for a response. Turning on his heel, he went down the hall to his room.

He tried to stay focused on what was in front of him. She wasn't in the mood to take something long or drawn out, he would have to make it quick while still covering for what she'd done. He grabbed what he needed from his room and had started back, when he noticed Panda's door cracked open and her sitting on the floor next to her bed, arms resting on her knees. She wasn't crying, but something clearly wasn't right. He knocked hard enough it opened the door wider and murmured, “Hey, what's wrong?”

Panda looked up at him, eyes widening when she saw what he was holding. She dropped her gaze to the floor before mumbling. “Tosca's getting it; Alex is getting it; everybody's either mad or in trouble - or both.”  
  
He remembered Panda took it pretty hard when there was emotional upheaval going on. He frowned; no doubt this whole week hadn't been easy on her. “I'm sorry, sweetie. You know everybody's okay, right?” 

She nodded halfheartedly; he couldn't blame her there, he wasn't so sure himself. 

“I'll come check on you when I have a minute, okay?” 

She nodded again and rubbed a few drops of moisture out of her eyes. Damn. The Winchester men were outnumbered and Alex needed him to get back. He went in to give Panda a hug and drop a kiss on her forehead. He closed the door after him as he left, hoping to God she wouldn't be able to hear anything, before continuing back down the hall. 

He attempted to firmly pull himself back into the mindset he needed to be in for what was ahead, but part of him was with Panda: he didn't like it when his family was in distress, but he didn't have the option of hiding from his responsibilities, or just being the fun big brother. This was what Alex needed from him right now and he'd reached the door, so he took a breath, hardened his resolve, and pushed it open. 

As soon as the door opened, Alex’s head shifted toward it, maybe watching for him but more likely hoping, impossibly, that it was Dean. Sam ignored her, setting the laptop on her desk, and twirled the paddle in his hand. It was small and light, but the holes would pack a punch - he planned on this lesson being short but memorable.

Coming up behind her, he set the paddle against her right cheek, and rested his other hand in the middle of her back above her crossed arms. He'd already said everything he needed to, so he only gave a terse warning. “Hold position.” Then he raised the paddle and brought it down sharply. He held it there against her skin for a moment, letting the burn sink in. 

Alex rocked forward with the smack, a small unconscious grunt escaping her throat, but she held firm, gripping her skirt in her hands. 

He lifted the paddle up and brought it down again, letting it linger before delivering a third stroke, over the same spot. 

Alex pressed her face into the mattress, muffling any sound she might have made from the force of his strokes. Sam couldn’t tell her emotional reaction. What he could see was the red splotch on her backside growing. He raised the paddle from her bottom and could see the slightly darker marks where the edges of the paddle and the holes had made impressions in her skin. He shifted to her other cheek and let the paddle fall. Three measured strokes, one on top of the other. 

There was relief with the switch, he could tell that in the relaxing of her muscles and a sigh he was sure she hadn't meant to be aloud, but with the second stroke she tensed again, making it harder, making it hurt more, no doubt. He wasn’t holding back and he could only imagine the burn radiating from her bright red skin. 

He aimed the next blow at her right sitspot, pressing her hips right into the mattress. 

It was a strange thing: purposely, calculatingly, inflicting pain on someone you cared about. He always assumed his dad was impervious to his cries of distress during a spanking, but he couldn't believe that now that he'd given his share. Part of him had to be focused in on the task, in the analytical part of his mind, like he would if he was cleaning a wound. The other part of him flinched with every blow and wanted it to be over as much as she undoubtedly did. 

The next stroke landed on her left sitspot, surprising her. She shifted, her body trying to get away from the blow. A small protest vibrated through the mattress. 

He took a deep breath and made sure his hand was pressed strong and steady into her back. He whipped the paddle down, alternating between her sitspots, until he'd delivered three more to each side. He heard her heavy breathing, to keep from crying certainly, and noticed her toes curling. Despite her relative silence, he could tell she was hurting. The center of the impact marks were whitish, the rest of her undercurves splotched with various shades of red, a few places starting to show a tinge of purpling.

He gave her a moment to catch her breath, then administered the last two, slow, one to each upper thigh, letting the paddle linger. He made sure she couldn't hear his relieved exhale knowing that part was over. He wished he could comfort her, hold her, brush away the tears she would never let him see, but there was no way she would be ready for that. He had a hunch Dean would be the only comfort she could accept right now. 

Besides, technically the punishment wasn't over, even though the paddling was. He kept his voice steady, firm, “You have two minutes, then put your underwear back on and sit down at your desk. I'll get you set up.” He allowed himself a short brush of his hand across her back and stepped away, giving her some space to compose herself. 

He heard her rustling behind his back and turned to see her breaking position to wipe her eyes. She put her hand back in position but squirmed her hips, sliding lower on the bed to rest her feet flat on the floor. She paused for just a second before inching her legs closed. 

He silently walked back behind her and gave her a single swat, his hand spanning across the center of both cheeks. He said nothing, just waited pointedly. 

“What the hell, Sam?” 

He allowed himself the eyeroll, only because she couldn't see him. Only Alex would be throwing attitude with her ass in the condition it was. “I'll tell you when your two minutes are up and you can break position.”

This time he could see the skin on her neck flush as she hitched back up on the bed, slowly spreading her legs once more. But her embarrassment only went so far. “This isn’t helping Dean at all,” she gritted through her teeth. 

He'd turned back to the desk, opening the laptop and pulling up the pages and files he'd gathered so far. He kept his voice soft; the words carried enough of a bite. “It's almost like your decision to run around freaking out at everyone was counterproductive. Two minutes. Unless you want to keep arguing with me . . .”

“No, sir,” she snapped. 

He left it; that was about as respectful as he could have hoped for. He finished his preparations with one eye on the clock. “Alright, Alex. You can get up.” He wanted to help her, but he knew she wouldn't take it as a kindness right now. He pulled the chair out for her and remained where he was at the desk, letting her right herself without an audience. He did glance at her out of his periphery to ensure she was doing alright. 

She’d let her skirt drop immediately, wincing silently as she bent down and pulled up her underwear. She seemed determined more than anything and she turned quickly to him, grabbing the back of her chair. “So what do we have?” 

“Sit.” He said it without looking at her, under his breath, but with enough authority injected into it that she would know it was an order. 

She looked at the chair, hard wood, and glared at Sam. She took a quick glance around the room, no doubt realizing he’d offered her no choice in the matter. With slow steps she walked around the chair and carefully sat with a cringe in her body and a blush on her cheeks, her eyes locked on the laptop. 

He quickly ran her through what he'd gotten from Rufus and the greenie, all business; switching fully over to how he would speak to a colleague. Except for her sore ass, it was over - and he wasn't just placating her with busy work, she was very much an asset and anything they uncovered could be vital information to pass along to Dean. 

He went on to show her what he'd dug up earlier, as far as articles from the local area, and some other resources that might prove relevant, to get them started. He could tell it was harder than usual for her to concentrate, but he was proud of her for trying.

Then suddenly, she froze. “Wait, Sam, did you see this?” He leaned forward to where she was pointing. “I know that we usually just look at cattle deaths, but there’s this really weird pattern of deaths in the sheep herds. Look.”

He did indeed look, read through the article, and turned to her with amazement. “You’re absolutely right. How did I miss that?” Sam sat on the edge of the desk, dialing Dean’s number and placing the cell on speaker in front of them. 

_“Sam? What's up?”_

“Alex is here on speaker. We were doing some digging, and she found something.”

Alex leaned in. “Yeah, so…” Sam had seen the relief on her face just hearing Dean’s voice, but she quickly got straight to the point, explaining to Dean what she’d just told Sam.

“That's freaking awesome, kid, thanks! Saved us a ton of time and hassle with that one. Sounds like we've got work to do; hopefully we'll be texting you soon that we're headed home.”

“Great!” she said with a grin that quickly faded. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Please be safe.” Her voice was quiet and Sam almost felt like he was intruding on a private conversation, but he couldn’t help but notice her voice shake. “It’s...it’s almost Christmas.”

Sam could hear his brother's breath catch. He sounded a little confused but recovered quickly. “Are you kidding? You think I'm about to let Sam hog all the popcorn? I'll be there, kiddo, don't you worry.”

“Okay. Edge, you make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“Sure, Alex. You know me, the nothing-stupid-neighborhood-watch.”

Dean pretended to be mildly offended by the implication. “Alright, alright, call us if you have any other breakthroughs, or the winning lotto numbers or whatever else voodoo magic nerd stuff you guys dig up.”

Alex laughed. “Bye, Dean. Bye, Edge,” she said and she hung up the phone. She looked up at Sam and moved to stand. 

Sam rested his hand on her shoulder, halting her movement. Alex scowled at him but said nothing. 

He studied her for a second. “You have two choices right now. You can apologize to John, and come be with everybody. Or you can stay here and keep going over the intel, see if you can find anything else.”

“Great,” she said, moving to get up again. “I’ll stay here.”

“Just hold on, Alex.” He pressed her back down again. “If you choose to stay in here, I'll be in and out, but you won't be moving from this chair until you're released. Those are your options.” 

“Ugh, Sam, you can’t be serious! My ass is killing me. How am I supposed to concentrate?”

“If it keeps reminding you of what you did to earn that sore ass, then I guess it's doing its job, isn't it? Is that your decision, then?”

Her eyes flickered for only a second before pure determination returned. “I’m not apologizing.”

Sam kept his face expressionless. He was disappointed, but not surprised. “Alright, then, Alex.” He stood and stretched his long frame. “Will you eat some lunch?”

“Sure,” she said curtly. “I’ll need all the files on my bed too. Unless I can get up to get them myself.” 

“I'll get them.” He went over to collect them carefully and brought them over to her. “If you think of anything else you could use, text me. I'll bring it on my way back.” He gave her a backward glance as he left the room. There was still so much he didn't know, and his heart ached for her. If she wouldn't open up to him, and Dean couldn't get through to her, he was going to have to figure out some other way. This couldn't go on. 

* * *

Tosca knocked on Panda’s door. When there was no answer, she opened it and leaned her head in, peering around. “Panda?” The room was empty. She then walked up the hall to her own room, tapping on the door before pushing it open.

Panda was there, sitting on her bed. She stood up when Tosca entered and looked awkwardly at a loss before impulsively stepping forward to hug her. “Sorry if you didn't want me in here, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'll go if you want?”

Tosca hugged her back. “No, I don’t mind! I came to find you and ask if you wanted a milkshake. John and I are going to use the ice cream that I bought for Alex, it’s melting, and I thought you might want to join us?”

Panda studied her face briefly before relaxing and giving her a small grin. “I would. I'm glad you and John fixed it. You were so upset, I was worried about you.”

Tosca blushed slightly and huffed a laugh. “Yeah, he fixed it all right, over his knee.” She sighed. “But I guess I needed it.” 

“Sometimes it's hard to remember when I'm hearing one of you get it - and crying and everything, that it's John, or the boys and they'll make it alright after and chances are good you asked for it on purpose anyway - I mean I dunno about this one in particular, I'm just still not used to remembering whoopings don't have to mean you feel terrible during and bad and alone afterward.”

Tosca nodded. “They make sure the consequences fit the crime, they’re always fair.” She put her hand on Panda’s shoulder and squeezed. “And I know what you mean-- they’re always good about taking care of us afterwards and making sure everything is okay.” 

Panda smiled at her now. “I know all that when it's me, it's just - it's different. Maybe I just feel protective when it's you guys. But besides that, I wish I could do something, and I feel helpless. So that's why I wanted to be here when it was over, in case you needed a panda hug.” 

Tosca smiled back at her. “I can always use a Panda hug!”

She backed out of the room into the hallway. “Well that's good cause I have an unlimited supply. And I think we both need a milkshake after that.” She paused, looking down the hall, but not toward the kitchen. When she looked back at Tosca, she seemed solemn again. “I just hope Sam was able to help Alex feel better. She -” she swallowed. “I think she got it bad.”

Tosca’s eyes widened for a moment. “How, um, how do you know that?” She asked with hesitation.

“I could hear it from my room, and . . . Um, Sam walked by and I saw what he -” She shuddered and dropped her eyes, looking like she was getting upset all over again. 

“Well, hopefully Sam helped Alex sort everything out, he’s good at analyzing a situation and explaining things. Now, let’s go see what John’s up to, don’t want the ice cream to melt into a puddle!”

Panda brought her eyes back to Tosca’s, she'd brightened a little. “You're right. His spankings hurt, but he fixes things after.” She took a deep breath. “To the milkshakes, please.”

* * *

Dean wouldn’t let her drive Baby. Edge didn’t expect him to, normally; Dean’s obsession with his car was well-known. Except he’d been driving non-stop since they left the bunker, first to get to their destination, then to get them back, and not to mention the hunt itself. He was tired, she could see he was, but when she hesitantly suggested to take the wheel, Dean just snorted.

“I’ll get my four hours when I get back, don’t worry.”

Except it wasn’t just the long hours of driving and the exhaustion of the hunt; She could also see something else was on his mind since that phone call with Alex. There was something in the other girl’s voice that had alarmed Edge, but Alex sounded so much better by the end of the call. Apparently, not in Dean’s eyes.

The bunker was quiet and mostly dark when they entered. Edge assumed everybody was fast asleep, but as she and Dean came into the library, John was there. He downed the last of his whiskey and closed the book in front of him.

“You wanna fill me in, Dad?” Dean dropped his duffle by the entrance.

“I think Sam is waiting to do just that. He’ll be able to do a better job than me; I have no clue what's going on with that girl the last few days.” He stood and looked to Edge. “You look like you're about to drop where you stand. C'mere,” he held his arms out and she went to him. He hugged her briefly, dropping a kiss on her head. “Good job today, sweetheart. You go'n to bed. I'll get your report in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, and he smiled and gave her another pat on the back before turning to Dean.

“Grab another bottle from the kitchen, will ya, Dean? I have a feeling we’ll be needing it.”

“Sure,” Dean looked over at Edge. “Night, kiddo. You did good.”

With that, the Winchesters were gone. Edge let out a breath. Something _was_ up, but they weren’t about to let her in on it, not now, anyway. And she was indeed tired. She should just go to bed like she’d been told.

But before that, she swooped through the telescope room, where her Advent calendar hung. Yes, John had a lot on his mind - the hunt, and something that had happened with Alex, and she shouldn't expect…

Except she did. It was such a small thing, and she’d asked him to, and he’d promised. They all had.

The window on the calendar was still closed.

Edge stood there, staring at it, absently aware her fists were clenching and her breath starting to heave. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking _fair_ , and she should march right over to where the Winchesters were and just tell them off.

She turned and started walking in the direction the men had gone, but halted after a few steps. It wasn’t the time to start a scene; John and Sam had probably been through one with Alex already, judging by the lines on John’s brow. 

She closed her eyes briefly and made herself breathe deeply, exhaled, and took another breath. She was so tired. Going to bed sounded good right now.

* * *

Alex lay in bed feeling like she’d been waiting forever, her imagination running, spinning with worse and worse what-ifs with every hour that passed. She almost would have rathered that Sam had made her stay sitting on that damned wooden chair all night until Dean got home. At least her anger and pain had been able to dampen down the fear now pounding in her heart in tune to the throb in her backside. 

She imagined both scenarios: Dean walking through her door, and him never walking through it again. She couldn’t hold back the rage she felt at the first, leaving her for a hunt at this time of year. But she couldn’t stop her sobs at the thought of the second. What was the last thing he’d said to her? What was the last thing she’d said to him?

Alex heard the door of her room open nearly silently behind her. She could tell immediately it was Dean; his scent, his step, just the way he breathed. Relief he was safe washed away her fear, but left behind a cold stillness. 

He paused a long moment, standing in the doorway, then he came into the room, leaving the door cracked behind him. She felt the bed dip as he sat down behind her turned back. “I know you're awake. I got us back as soon as I could, cause I knew something was off. Sam told me what happened -”

“He tell you he blistered my ass?” she snapped. 

Dean's voice got a bit of a sharp edge to it. “He told me; sounds like you had it coming.”

“John doesn’t like to hear the truth. He never should have sent you on a hunt…” Alex turned over to look at him. “And you never should have gone.”

“Hey! I'm not here to get into all that right now. It's late. I came because I knew you wouldn't be able to sleep too well if you'd been that upset, that you'd want to see that I was alright, and . . . because I wanted to make sure you were; I've been worrying about you ever since you called.” He ended with a huff, he didn't like to admit it.

Her heart softened at his words, knowing he was worried about her, realizing he didn’t understand why she would have spent hours drowned in a sense of dread. “I’m...I’m fine. I’m glad you’re…” _Safe. Alive._ “Home.”

He looked at her discerningly like he could see everything she wasn't saying. He gave another little huff. “Scooch down.”

It surprised her, his request. There was no denying the skip in her heart as she moved over. 

He took her pillows, tugging the one out from under her head, and propped them against the headboard before settling himself mostly seated beside her. He lifted her head gently and offered his leg in lieu of the pillow. “There. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. The rest will wait till morning. Now go to sleep.” 

She felt tears come to her eyes, tears from his words and from both soothing and painful memories of a million years ago and she snuggled into him, the feel of his hand stroking her hair. She closed her eyes but something weighed too heavily. “Are you mad at me?” she asked quietly. 

He paused. “No. No, I'm not mad. Tonight my only concern is you. It sounds like Sam already took care of most of what needed addressing, but if there's anything else, we'll sort it out tomorrow. Right now, m’just glad to be home; like I said, the rest will keep.” 

She knew that for her, nothing would keep. It was now or never, here in the dark, in the safety of her bedroom, her head on his leg, his fingers in her hair. Tomorrow would bring back the reality of hunts and Christmas decorations and sisters with their own issues, John with his. Tomorrow there would be no sense of safety, just an overwhelming need to get through, survive one more day. What was left in silence tonight would stay in silence. It had to. She’d learned that well enough over the years. 

“Okay,” she said. It was probably better this way anyway. Safer. The truth would only hurt them all. “Goodnight.”


	5. 8 Days ‘til Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you all for your continued interest, kudos, comments, and questions. We love you all and we’re filing all those suggestions away for future fics. You guys have some great ideas!

* * *

  
With no windows in the bunker, there wasn't a change in the light to wake her up. Edge blinked at the bedside table, trying to make out the time on the tiny face of the watch she had left there. Eventually she reached to turn the lamp on and realized it was after nine o'clock. Everybody probably let her oversleep on account of her and Dean's late return.

The thought of last night made the heat rise in her belly and the invisible hand grab at her throat, the same one that had hardly let her fall asleep last night. She got up and went to splash some water on her face, to wake herself up as well as try to calm herself down. It helped, a little, and she felt capable of facing humanity – or at least that part of it inhabiting the bunker.

There was a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen and she poured herself a cup and drank it there, enjoying another few minutes of alone time before she came out into the War Room, from where faint voices carried. They sounded ordinary, as far as she could judge; either whatever happened yesterday wasn't deathly concerning, or it was resolved already. She stepped out of the kitchen.

Tosca and Panda were at the table, still laboring over the decorations and chatting - they'd added cranberry strands alongside the popcorn ones and probably had enough for five trees.

The next table looked like Christmas had thrown up all over it, with mismatching strings, garlands and ornaments; it appeared there wasn't yet a consensus about how the tree was to be decorated, and they'd taken everything out just in case. The Castiel-look-alike tree-topper resting crookedly on top of the mess looked like it was begging to be rescued from the chaos.

"Hey, Edge!" Tosca called. "We thought you'd be out until much later."

"Well, I'm up," Edge started walking toward the library.

"Did you eat some breakfast? Want me to whip up something for you?" Panda asked.

"Thanks, I'm fine.” Food wasn't a priority right now. She crossed the library and went into the telescope room and her Advent calendar. Maybe she was hopelessly naïve, but John stayed up later than she did last night, he was probably up with the birds; and it was Tosca's turn today to open the window, and maybe-

The windows on the calendar were closed, both yesterday's and today's. Anger started boiling inside Edge again; not a simmer this time, but a burst of flame that seared her insides and made her feel like there was steam rising off her like in a cartoon. She turned and marched out into the library.

"G'mornin'," John had wandered in, hair damp, and smiled at her. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," she could feel her eyes blazing at him, practically drilling smoldering holes right into his core.

John either didn't see it, or didn't care. "Good. Why don't you grab some breakfast and get to writing the report about the hunt." 

"No," the turmoil inside her made her voice tremble, just a bit.

John's brow creased. "No, you don't want breakfast?"

She drew a breath, but the added oxygen only seemed to flare the flame further. "No, I'm not writing any fucking report."

His brow creased some more. "That was not a request."

"I don't fucking care."

Shock, hurt, and a flare of anger washed over John's face like a sheer curtain. He took a deep breath, trying to keep himself under control. His words were clipped. "Watch it, Edge." 

She normally would. She normally wouldn't even need to be told. But she had  _ enough _ , enough of tolerating everybody else's crap and pretending it was okay when they walked all over her.

Suddenly she was consumed with the urge to get out of there. She pushed past John in the direction of the war room.

"Stop right there, we're not done," John's voice  boomed from behind her.

"Yeah, we are." She could hear his footsteps following and leaped down the steps between the library and the war room.

Panda and Tosca looked up, baffled, as Edge rushed by them. That was as far as she got before John's hand clamped down on her upper arm and spun her forcefully enough to make her hair whip around.

"I said, we're not done," his voice was low, growling. It would have usually made her knees buckle, but her anger drove aside any self-preservation she might have left.

She yanked her arm out of John's hold and stepped back. "Oh, we're done.  _ I'm _ done. Done with everybody's shit. Y'all are big on talking about being a family and looking out for each other and taking care of each other, aren't you? Except when it's me. Because I never need attention, right? Because if I'm pulling my weight and doing my job and following orders, then you don't need to take care of me, do you? Was I asking for the fucking  _ moon _ here?! I just wanted us to do something nice together, to count the days toward Christmas. All you had to do, all  _ any  _ of y'all had to do, was open a fucking window on the calendar once in a while, was that too fucking much?!"

She was yelling now, yelling right at John fucking Winchester, and she didn't even give a damn. His expression had changed from anger back to shock, and he just let her continue.

"All of you, just fucking  _ ignoring  _ me, like it's nothing. And maybe it is, maybe what I care about is nothing to you. But you know what? It's not nothing to me. I had everything planned, I was gonna put a candy in the windows of the last week so each of you will get a surprise when you opened them. I got everything already prepared, but now I'm gonna fucking throw all that shit away, because you've fucking  _ ruined  _ it!"

She stopped for air and to wipe at the tears suddenly welling in her eyes. Through them John's face was somewhat blurry as he stared at her, but there was no mistaking the distress in his voice.

"We do care about you-"

"Do you?!" She gave up the fight with her tears and turned to the table filled with the mess of decorations. "You remembered that Tosca's family used to decorate their tree with popcorn strings. You remembered Panda's family snacking on nuts during the holidays, didn't you?!" She reached over and plucked the angel from the disarray. "I told you my family had a tree-topper shaped like a snowflake, but you don't care enough to remember anything  _ I _ say. Otherwise you wouldn't have gotten some fucking  _ Castiel _ and had the nerve to say it's for  _ me _ !"

She heaved the little angel down at the floor at John's feet. It shattered, shrapnel flying every which way.

Without waiting for response, Edge fled back to her room and slammed the door shut behind her back.

* * *

Panda hesitated outside the door to Alex's room. Maybe Alex wouldn't want her to . . . but she had to at least check on her friend after yesterday, plus she could use the distraction from hearing what was going to take place at the other end of the hall. She sighed and knocked on the door. 

It was silent for a few moments, but just as Panda was debating whether to walk away or knock again, she heard a small, “Come in.”

She opened the door and peered in. Alex was lying on her side on the bed, a book opened upside down in her hand, like she’d been reading. 

“Um, maybe I'm interrupting? I just . . . uh, I hadn't seen you since yesterday and I wanted to check on you.”

Alex smiled and pushed the book aside. “I feel like it’s been forever since we talked.” She moved over, patting the bed beside her and Panda felt herself relax. She drew further into the room at her sister's invitation.

Alex continued. “It’s been all boys all the time lately, and they’ve pretty much just been kicking my ass. I could use a little girl talk. Unless you’ve got a paddle behind your back,” she teased. 

Panda fought her reflex to cringe uncomfortably at the ass-kicking comment. She sat down, and shook her head, giving the other girl an attempt at a smile. “No paddles,” she held her hands out as proof. 

Alex frowned at her. “What’s wrong?”

She felt a little awkward, Alex didn't like feeling pitied; maybe she should have done a better job acting casual, but here they were because she had the worst poker face. “Um, I dunno. It seems like they've been hard on you the past few days and I don't like it - when you're in trouble, you know? I was worried about you.”

Alex looked a bit surprised, then softened. “That’s sweet. But you don’t need to worry about me. I can take it. Dean’s easier than Sam, but…” She trailed off, her cheeks becoming rosy.

Panda smirked, trying for a teasing tone. “Well . . . I wasn't exactly talking about your butt, I know you can handle that part; I was more worried about _you_.” She glanced at her sister, sobering. “You just have been kinda holed up for the past few days and I wanted to make sure that you knew . . . no one's mad, or judging you, or anything for getting in trouble. After, um . . . _you know_ . . . sometimes I feel ashamed and like everyone knows how bad I screwed up. I wanted to make sure you weren't feeling like that at all, and that you knew we miss you being out with us.”

“Oh.” Alex almost looked surprised at the care in Panda’s eyes or the thoughtfulness of her words. “No, I’m...I mean, I don’t exactly feel like seeing any of the Winchesters right now, or…” She trailed off and Panda wondered what exactly she’d decided not to say. “But...not because of that. I don’t tend to...um...feel that guilt or shame, as much as you guys do.” She ducked her head. “Guess I’m pretty selfish like that.”

Panda blinked, taken aback at her conclusion. “No, it's not . . . you're not selfish, just 'cause you process things differently. It might be more healthy,” she smiled. “I don't know, I'm not a psychiatrist.” What Alex had said earlier suddenly sunk in. “But then - What did you mean Dean's easier? Are you and Sam . . . Did he do something?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” Alex sighed, like she was trying to build up the courage to admit truths she’d never told before. “It’s just  with Sam..he forces me to experience it, ya know?  He hates punishing us so you know when he’s reached his limit that you’ve really missed the mark, and how disappointed he is because he expected better. And he just has this way of driving home all that shame I normally don’t let myself feel, and honestly it’s the worst,” she laughed uncomfortably.

Panda shrunk down into herself and nodded. It  _ was _ . 

Alex went on. “But with Dean it’s...different. I know there’s no judgement. Whatever I’ve done he probably would have done the same, if he hasn’t already. He only gives me what he knows he would have deserved. Maybe the physical pain is worse but in that moment...the only shame I’d feel is in not being able to show him that I can take it too.” She looked at Panda, eyes shining, and Panda could see there was more, things Alex wasn’t saying. Might never say, out loud. “That’s pretty messed up, isn’t it?”

Panda shook her head, but didn't answer right away, thinking. When she did speak, her voice was very quiet. “For me it's the fear I screwed up too bad. That they aren't going to forgive me this time, or they'll realize I'm not worth it. I don't like the feeling that I let them down. They're both pretty good at picking up on that and making sure I know it's over once the punishment is, and that I feel cared for through it.” She risked a glance at Alex's face and tried to pull off a nonchalant shrug. “But, no, I don't think it's messed up - no more than . . . um, purposefully goading them into s-sspanking you.” She could feel her cheeks get hot at the admission. 

“Why?” Alex asked with what seemed like genuine curiosity. “I mean, I do that with Dean sometimes, for the attention mostly. But you and Tosca both...why with...all of them?”

“I don't know exactly - and I can't speak for Tosca - but I guess sometimes I feel like I need to test it, to see that they still care enough; that even when I act like a brat, they won't just give up on me. That they care enough to whoop my butt and then put me back together after. Or I'll get restless and it's like I need to fight against something that can take it, that's stronger than me. And, I guess, every once in awhile . . . I just need a good cry.” She shrugged again, cheeks still burning. 

She snuck a peek at Alex and seeing the other girl still listening curiously with no trace of judgement encouraged her to keep going. “I don't see  _ as _ much of a difference as you do. Provoking any of them to spank you feels a little like teasing a bear. I guess that's different for you, too, because you're way tougher than I'll ever be. Plus, you can poke at John more than the rest of us.” Panda felt Alex suddenly go stiff and she snapped her mouth shut, opened and closed it again. “Sorry! I didn't mean -” She wasn't even sure how to finish that sentence; she could only wait miserably to see how offended Alex was. 

“Nothing about provoking John is a game,” Alex said and Panda almost shivered at the cold in her voice. “Bears attack. Without thought, without care. You and Tosca and Edge, you play a dangerous game if you play with him.”

Panda was taken aback. Mostly she wanted to apologize profusely and ask Alex to forget what she'd said. Something bothered her, though, and she couldn't let it go. She tried to keep her voice gentle, she definitely didn't want to sound argumentative. “John . . . he's not a bear, though. Any more than the other two are. He's - he’s safe. He's strong enough he could just hurt you, but he's never used his full strength with me no matter what I've done. And he always makes sure I'm okay after. His spankings are no picnic and I'm not saying I pick him to sass as often as I do the others, but . . . I've never felt scared in a bad way with him. Like I thought he was really going to hurt me.”

Alex got off the bed and Panda was both filled with curiosity and a fear of knowing what could spook her badass sister that badly as she watched her walk the length of the room as if she was fleeing John himself and not just talk of him. When she could find no more space to put between them, Alex turned, arms folded tight across her body. “I can’t,” she said, her voice nearly shaking. “I can’t trust him like that. I don’t know how.”

Panda felt herself near tears, wishing she'd never brought up something so obviously distressing. “That's okay, Alex. You trust Dean and Sam, right? I - I wouldn't be able to do much, I know, but I wouldn't stand by and let anyone hurt you either.”

“I know.” Alex’s arms dropped to her side. “And yeah, I trust Sam and Dean.” She leaned back against the wall, eyes closing. “I’m sorry.”

“It was my fault, I shouldn't have brought it up. It sounded snotty anyway and I know you got it from Sam. I didn't mean I was jealous, I was just more curious, but it wasn't any of my business.” She knew she was rambling anxiously, but she wanted so much to go back to the easy way they'd been talking before she'd screwed it up. 

“It’s okay.” Alex came back to the bed and sat down, gesturing toward the door. “What’s going on out there anyway?”

Panda opened her mouth and then sighed miserably. This was going to go over well. “Edge yelled at John. It was . . . I don't know if I've ever seen her go off like that. We've all been forgetting to do her special Advent calendar and I guess it's been really hurting her feelings. I - I know I forgot, she had to remind me like three times when it was my day. It wasn't a hard thing; I get why she's angry, but I guess that wouldn't get her off the hook . . .”  Guilt washed over her remembering the pain in her sister's face, in her voice. Pain that she helped cause. The only thing that distracted her from being overwhelmed by it was concern for the sister just in front of her. 

Alex’s gaze clouded over, seeming to look through the wall instead of at it. “My uncle, he used to talk about John Winchester all the time. Really admired him. Talked about how he was tough as nails. No nonsense. Raised his boys with discipline and respect and they grew up to save the world. I always wondered, at what price? At what cost?” She paused a moment in memory but Panda didn’t interrupt. “When I realized who’d saved us, it was like walking into a legend. Sam and Dean were everything I’d  always  imagined them to be and more.” Her voice seemed filled with admiration and wonder, but then it shifted. “And so was John. Guess he’s proving that with Edge right now.”

Panda hesitated. Again, she didn't want to argue, but she didn't feel right about not speaking up. “I . . . I think, if I'd screamed and cursed at John, I might not act like I agreed at the time, but I would know I deserved to be held accountable. And if somehow I managed to get away with it . . . it wouldn't sit right. The guilt would eat at me.” She picked at her fingernails nervously. “I guess in that case, the spanking would be kinder than the alternative.”

“I don’t.” Alex’s voice was quiet, almost hushed. Panda felt like her sister was letting her in on a secret. “Feel guilty, I mean. Even after Sam. John was wrong. He shouldn’t have sent them. Not now. If something had gone wrong…”

“O-oh.” Panda fidgeted, wincing, but it wasn't her job to make Alex feel remorse even if she had any way of doing so. “I guess, I just don't . . .” She swallowed, her voice suddenly thick with emotion. “Something could always go wrong . . .” 

“Yeah.” Alex tipped her head back against the pillow. “It can.”

Panda laid her hand on her sister's arm wishing she could hug her. “Alex . . .” Something was wrong, that was apparent, but she had no idea where to begin to try to fix it. “Do you . . . if it would help to talk about it, I'm here. I might not be able to do anything, but I'm a good listener.”

Alex forced a smile. “I know you are. But some things...you can’t change the past. And talking about it just makes everyone around you act weird.”

Panda's eyes brightened and her lip quirked. “I'm always weird, you wouldn't even notice a difference!” She squeezed Alex's arm before pulling her hand away and sobering. “As long as you know I'm here if you need it.”

“Thanks.” She sounded sincere, though Panda wasn’t sure she would really talk. “Are you okay?” 

“M-me?” Panda was completely blindsided by the question. She took her best guess at what Alex was referring to. “I've managed to keep my butt out of the line of fire this week, actually.”

Alex gave a brief laugh. “Well, one of us should, I guess.” She touched Panda’s hand lightly. “Thank you, Panda. I’m glad you came to talk.”

Panda couldn't keep from beaming; she couldn't quite meet Alex's eyes in the face of the  praise . “Me, too. And I'm glad you're alright. I, um, do you wanna come out and help me and Tosca string cranberries?” She remembered and could have bit her tongue. “Uh, oh . . . Actually, we probably have plenty; we could do something else. We just would enjoy hanging out with you, if you want.”

It was as if a cloud fell over Alex’s eyes. “No, thank you. I...I think it’s probably better if I just stay here. For everyone.” She reached over and grabbed her book of monsters. “Besides, we never know when we’ll run into the next Crocotta or Musca. Better be prepared.”

Panda hesitated, “O-okay. Invitation’s open, though, if you need a break. Or I could always come see you if you feel like some more girl talk . . .” She gave Alex a hopeful smile as she stood up. 

“Just….have fun. Okay? I’ll text you if I need you.”

“Okay.” Something wouldn't let her just leave. “Um.” She darted forward and gave Alex a quick hug around her shoulders. She could hear her sister’s quick intake of breath, and she released her with an apologetic grin. “Okay,” she said and Alex’s surprised smile back warmed her heart as she closed the door behind her. 

* * *

Edge stayed on her bed with her face buried in her pillow for a while longer after she stopped crying. She'd have to come out of her room sometime, but she couldn't face anybody right now; not Sam or Dean, not the other girls, and not John.

Jesus, did she really talk like that to  _ John Winchester _ , of all people?! She stuffed her face a little deeper into the pillow.

She heard a steady  _ one, two _ knock on her door and made herself sit up and wipe her sleeve over her face. 

John's muffled voice came through the door, almost tentative. “Can I come in?”

She sniffled, took a calming breath and said, “Yeah.”

He entered, closing the door behind him before studying her face.  He took in the evidence of her tears, a shadow flickering over his expression like it physically pained him to see . Something caught his eye and he  tilted his gaze down at her trash can by the door where she'd hurled the bag of reese's cups, caramels, M&M’s, licorice, all of their favorites she'd meant to surprise them with, and he visibly winced. 

He brought his eyes back to hers and cleared his throat. “Edge, I have a lot to answer for, it seems. Do you mind if I sit?” He set his hand on the back of her desk chair, but stopped, waiting for her response. 

She stared at him for a moment. It wasn’t what she was expecting. But she managed to keep her voice steady when she replied, “No, of course not.”

He pulled the chair out, turning it so he was facing her and sat down, rubbing the back of his neck. He sighed. “I want to let you talk if you need to, I gather I haven't done a very good job at listening to you the past couple weeks. I expect you to maintain some level of respect, but I will grant some leeway, as it's my fault you're upset. And I'm sorry, to begin with, that you were driven to the point where you figured you needed to yell to be heard.”

It was hardly a reprimand by John Winchester’s standards, but it still made her eyes start watering again, and she lowered her gaze down to the hands she was clutching in her lap. “It was… it was stupid. Forget it. I just got on everybody’s nerves and- and I don’t-”

He half came up out of the chair at her distress. “Hey.” His voice was gentle, but it demanded attention. He reached out and raised her chin so she was looking at him. “It's not stupid. It's important; you're so important to me, sweetheart. I'm so sorry I haven't been doing a good job showing it. Please.”

She sniffled again, waiting for him to continue, and realized he was the one waiting for her to speak. “We… we had this Advent calendar. At home, I mean. My grandfather made it. We’d take it out every year, and everybody would get a turn at opening the windows. We had a schedule for it and everything. And my mom would put little surprises in the windows, candy or tiny toys, or little notes, just… it was always thoughtful, you know? It was  _ right _ . I wanted… I wanted for you all to have this, too, the feeling somebody’s thinking about you, and that you’re a part of something bigger. A… a family,” she finished in a near-whisper, her gaze lowering again.

John's eyes swam as she went on. He waited till she'd finished to turn his head, and she heard his muffled, “fuck.”

When he turned back, he'd blinked away most of the tears. “I fucked up, kid. I'm so sorry. I - I hear you. I'm not making any excuses, I just don't want you to think . . . That's what I wanted, too. I shoulda stopped and listened. Damn it!” He drew his arm across his eyes to forestall the fresh tears. “I looked for a snowflake, you know? All they had were angels and stars everywhere. I wanted to tell you without making you feel like I minded at all, looking at three different stores for something special for you. I thought maybe we could invite Cas over, tell him he’s our special snowflake.” John's brow and mouth twitched slightly in spite of himself. 

Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, and at last she managed, “You looked for a snowflake?”

He gave her a half smile, “Yeah, I did.”

She hardly thought about what she was doing when she got to her feet and the next minute her arms were sliding to wrap around his neck. 

He embraced her, she thought she felt a few tears soaking into her hair and she heard his muffled words. “I shoulda told you right away, instead of making you feel like you were an afterthought. If I hadn't been so damn preoccupied with everything . . .”

“It’s okay,” the clench in her throat allowed only a whisper through. 

“It's  _ not _ okay.” John's voice held the uncompromising note he was so skilled at using with wayward daughters, but this time it was directed at himself. “I shoulda been a good example and helped back you up. No one was ignoring you on purpose, but that's not good enough. We weren't doing a good job acting like family. It was something you cared about and that should have been enough to make it something we  _ all _ cared about.  Everyone here owes you an apology, but me first of all. I'm sorry, Edge. Will you please forgive me, darlin’?”

It was so overwhelming, hearing him actually  _ apologizing  _ to her, she was at a loss for words, barely managing to nod into his shoulder and curl deeper into his embrace. His arms tightened around her.

It took her a few minutes more to find her voice. Her anger and hurt were almost all gone now, dissipated by John’s words and touch. But where they had been, guilt started to flow like a tide. “I’m sorry, for- for yelling and talking to you like I did, and… God, I broke the angel, I didn’t mean-”

He pulled her back from him slightly so he could gaze into her eyes. “I forgive you, Edge. You had good reason to be upset, and you'd reached the point you felt that was the only way to get me to hear you. We both know that wasn't an acceptable way to speak to me, but I was sure you'd feel sorry once you had time to cool down and think through everything. The angel . . . can be fixed or replaced. I'm not concerned about that as much as fixing things between us.” He looked at her hopefully. 

She shook her head slightly. “You don’t need to fix that.” His brows started to rise, and she continued before he could get the wrong idea. “It’s not broken. Between us, I mean. I’d like to think… I’d like to think it takes something a hell of a lot worse to break it. Isn’t that how it is? In a family?”

He couldn't hide his relieved smile. “Yeah. That's how it is.” He kissed the side of her head, murmuring, “Thank you.”

She clung onto him for a few seconds longer, then took a breath and stood up. “Can we… get this over with?”

He searched her face and sighed. “I am the last one to offer a free pass for disrespect and disobedience, Edge, but in this case I feel like I'm punishing you for my screw ups.”

“It’s not your screw ups. I was so rude, and I cussed, and I threw the angel right at you. You can’t offer a free pass for that.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, his eyes drilling into her soul. Finally, he nodded firmly, got up and crossed over to sit on the edge of the bed. He didn't say anything, they both knew what came next.

She came to his side, pulled her sweatpants and panties down, and leaned to position herself over his lap. John had used his belt on her more often than not, although she had been over the Winchesters’ knee enough to be familiar with that position as well. She couldn’t help feeling embarrassed by it, smaller, even; but right now it was strangely comforting to be snug against John’s firm body. Laying her chest on the bed, she grabbed the comforter, and waited.

He settled one hand on her back; the other came to rest against the center of her bottom, spanning both cheeks. It wasn't as large as Sam's huge paw, but she could confirm he knew how to use it. There was a moment of anticipation and then he drew his hand back, bringing it down for the first time. 

John must have read from her baring herself, from her hands twisted in her blanket, what she needed from him, because despite his reluctance and his desire to go easy on her, he wasn't holding back now. He spanked her over the same spot, making every stroke count.

Her breath was catching with each swat, the force of them made her body rock over John’s knees. She clutched the comforter tighter and pressed her face into it, determined not to raise any kind of racket that would make him think she’d had enough.

The fire was building fast. She could have probably kept her pants for a while, she didn’t think John would have said anything if she had, but it didn’t even occur to her; the words she’d yelled at him were ringing in her ears, as loud as the sound of his palm on her bare ass, and she buried her face deeper into the covers, trying to shut them out.

He finally started targeting new points, bringing his hand down rapidly until it felt red hot before moving on. 

She wasn’t crying yet, but the sting in her backside made her eyes sting as well. The comforter absorbed her tears as well as her pained gasps as the swats continued to rain relentlessly on her backside.

As hard as she tried to stay still, her body seemed to start moving on its own, trying to evade the sharp smacks. Without changing the tempo of her punishment, his other arm circled her waist, cinching her tightly to him. Soon enough, he'd run out of fresh targets and his blows started falling on skin that he'd already gone over. The pain redoubled with every brisk smack and Edge stuffed a fold of fabric into her mouth and bit down, hard, muffling the yelps as best as she could manage.

She felt her legs kicking; she couldn’t really help it much with the way John’s hand was singeing her sit-spots and undercurve with steady, heavy swats. She tried to plant her toes on the floor, but it only served to stretch the skin on her ass and make the pain worse.

His hand started to descend on her thighs, but he took pity on her so far as to slip his leg over her calves pinning them down, even as he kept up his relentless barrage of swats. 

When the pain had become nearly unbearable, he began his third pass; this time he abandoned the pattern he'd been following so far and just spanked her indiscriminately all over her bottom and upper legs. She didn’t even try to keep herself still anymore, and relied on John’s strong grip to hold her down as she writhed over his knee.

As it kept going, part of her longed for the pain to stop, while the other welcomed it. She had hurt and showed disrespect to the man who'd saved her life, taken her in and under his wing, into his family; this kind of transgression had a price, and the price needed to be paid in full.

The tempo stuttered and with five more slow, solid smacks, John stilled, just holding her in position over his lap. 

Edge lay there, breaths heaving into the covers, and tried to collect herself a little. Even though her ass was blazing and pulsing with pain, there was still restlessness inside her, a feeling that this wasn’t yet done, not completely. It was wrenching her chest, as if there was a huge sob there, trapped, aching to be set free.

She didn’t know if John could feel the tension lingering in her body. And even if he did, she had no idea if he was going to do something about it. She couldn’t bring herself to ask if they were done; and, anyway, this would be over when John said it would, not a minute before.

His hand loosened around her waist and he gently soothed her back. He released her legs and she lay still over his lap. It couldn’t be over, could it? For being disobedient, disrespectful, for acting like a fucking drama queen in front of her sisters? He couldn’t let her off with just that. He  _ couldn’t _ .

John was still a moment. He tapped her bottom lightly. “Stand up.”

She drew her arms and legs to push herself up, lingering a second before she straightened up all the way. Her throat felt hot and clenched. She couldn’t bring herself to look into John’s face.

John stood, too, and faced her. She could feel his gaze on her for several seconds. Finally, he broke the silence. “Look at me, Edge.”

She forced her head up, not eager to see the forgiveness she didn’t deserve.

His face was unreadable, though. “You know not to talk to me that way, don't you? Especially in front of your sisters.”

She stared at him, not grasping what he had said at first, as if he was speaking in some foreign language. And then his words sunk in, and something started to lighten inside her. Relief. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” 

He nodded. “You know you'll always be forgiven.” His hands dropped to his belt buckle. “But you also know you earned this. Hands on the wall.”

“Yes, sir.” She turned, waddled the few feet to the wall by the bed and reached to place her palms flat on it.

She could hear him slipping his well-worn belt through the loops of his jeans and then stepping closer to her. He put his hand on her waist and adjusted her stance slightly, her bottom stuck out and parallel to the wall to present an ideal target. “You're going to show me you're sorry by accepting your punishment and holding yourself in position.”

She was already trembling, and the thought of holding herself like this while he walloped her already-scalded ass was terrifying; but John’s voice carried that note she knew well, that tone of authority that made her body respond even before her conscious mind did. She pressed her palms a little tighter against the wall. “Yes, sir.”

She felt the belt tap against her bottom, then heard the swish-crack as it sliced through the air and across the middle of both cheeks, and another sound - it took her a second to realize it was her own wail of pain. 

He gave her just enough time to catch her breath, then the next stroke whistled down to strike her undercurves. The fire on her scorched skin was unbelievable, and she barely managed to turn her head in time to catch the next cry as she tightened her mouth onto her shoulder. Her knees felt like they were going to buckle, and she locked them, leaning a little further into the wall.

John's voice was like an anchor, strong and grounding. “Mind your position. Keep your ass out. I know you can do this, or I wouldn't ask it of you.”

She corrected her posture, careful not to let her wobbly knees collapse underneath her. She took a breath and pressed her hands on the wall and her mouth into her shoulder.

The belt tapped against her hip again, and John let it fly, sizzling along the top of her bottom. Giving her a short pause, he brought it down again slightly lower. He kept going, working his way down. His slower pace and methodical strategy made it a little easier to hold her place, or bring herself back into position when the pain caused her to shift against her will.

The tears were back, stinging fiercely in her eyes, and now she was crying, mouth still against her shoulder, drawing painful, broken breaths in between sobs. But even as the spasms of her chest made the little muscles all around her ribcage sore, inside it the relief was spreading, the heaviness was lifting. The burning pain was washing her clean.

When he reached the crease where her bottom met her thighs, he gave her a little longer break. His firm caution of “Position.” was her only warning before the belt came crashing down sharply against the center of her bottom. Then it fell again, and again in quick succession. Four strokes total all laid over the same spot. 

She was practically  _ shrieking  _ into the fabric of her shirt; the leather seemed to bite deep into her flesh with red-hot fangs, and every joint in her limbs was on the verge of melting to let her curl into a little ball. But she managed - somehow - to hold position, like John had told her to. Like he wanted her to.

He rubbed her back and laid his hand there. His voice came to her again. “Good. Six more. You'll have paid for it. It will be over. You can keep position for six more.” He braced his hand against her waist to give her something to ground her.

Her breath was hitching with sobs and all she could do was nod and will her fingers to glue themselves into the wall. She could do this, she could make John proud now as much as she could make him upset before. She stuck her bottom out slightly, her hip seeking John’s touch, his reassurance.

He tapped the belt again, low, before the next four strokes came whipping down relentlessly, searing her sitspots, and she wailed with a voice that felt raspy and worn. 

A brief breather and she felt John's hand press into her firmly just before the belt fell twice across her upper thighs. 

She wanted to let go that very moment, to let herself drop to the floor because it was finished, it was done, he had said six more and they were over, and she could break position now, she could-

Except she couldn’t, not until John said so.

A light jangling thump told her John had tossed his belt without leaving contact of his other hand on her back. “Alright. Alright, sweetheart. You can get up. Come here.” He guided her gently to standing and into his arms. 

Edge nearly fell into him, burrowing into his big body, pressing her face to his chest with her crying starting anew. She felt his hands as if from a distance, rubbing her back, sliding up to brush through her hair and down to her back again. Her fingers were clutching his shirt, actually pulling as if she could get him closer than he already was. He let her, steadily holding her against him, until her tears ebbed and her sobs quieted and her breaths evened out.

When she'd calmed some, John started talking soothingly, still supporting her and holding her to him. “You took that really well, Edge. I'm proud of you. I know you really care about respecting me and being a good example for the others. I see that and I appreciate it. Come here, your legs are still shaking. Why don't you lay down on the bed for a minute, and I'll grab you some water.”

She felt as limp as a ragdoll while he led her back to the bed and nudged her onto it. She whimpered miserably as the movement tugged at her blistered skin, but finally lying down felt like heaven; she sunk into the bed like a rock. His hand passed through her hair and he cupped the back of her head. “Are you all good now, honey?” His eyes looked searchingly into hers like he was trying to see if there was any residual guilt still hiding there. 

She nodded. “I’m good.” And she was. Not her ass - that she was going to feel for  _ days  _ \- but she was good.

He gave her a relieved half smile. “Good. I'll be right back.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead and was gone. 

Edge closed her eyes. It wasn’t even an hour from the time she’d woken up, but she was exhausted as if an entire day had passed already. There had been enough drama to fill an entire day, for sure. That thought brought to mind the cause for it all, and Edge almost winced with another jolt of guilt, but the lasting throb in her backside drove it away.

She was going to get rid of the Advent calendar, she decided. The stupid thing wasn’t worth all the agony. They were a family - the Winchesters, the other girls, and her. Even if they never again did anything together but share the same space, they were still a family.

John came back with some water and waited for her to prop herself up on one elbow so he could help her drink it. He brushed his hand over her hair. “I'll give you another five minutes if you need it, then I want you to get dressed and come with me. I'll get you set up at a table in the library so you can get that report written.”

“Thank you.” She watched him close the door behind his back and let herself linger a little on the bed, but not too much; five minutes was a long time when you were face to face with a monster, but a blink of an eye when the snooze button on your alarm clock was on.

She got up and carefully pulled on new pairs of panties and sweatpants - she couldn't imagine letting denim rub over her bruised bottom, and she didn't think John would mind. After changing her shirt and running a brush through her hair, she opened her door and stepped outside.

He was waiting for her, leaning against the wall, and he smiled when he met her eyes. He came over to rest a hand on the middle of her back and they went down the hall toward the library. 

As they made their way, Edge was suddenly surprised to feel John's hand on her back firmly guide her down the wrong hall. This turn off wouldn't take them to the library, not directly anyway, but John just gave her a funny look in response to her confusion, part knowing, and part shy. She was curious, but chose not to question it, just wait to see what John was planning. 

When they turned into the telescope room, he started steering her toward the Advent calendar that had started all the trouble. John understood it too, then; he wanted to see her take down the calendar. The relief that was warming her insides before curled up into a tight, cold ball. It was one thing for her to reach the conclusion that the calendar needed to be removed from their lives; but that John would want her to do it was another, and despite herself she was blinking back tears.

They were still a few feet away from where the advent calendar was set up when John must have noticed something was off. He pulled up and touched her chin, gently turning her head so he could see her. His face fell. “I know this must seem like too little, too late, but, please, if you could try to see it as part of our apology, and a promise to do better; let us prove to you that we mean it?”

“Taking down the calendar is part of an apology? I don’t… I don’t get it.”

John's face wrinkled in confusion. He spoke softly, “Take it down? No, darlin. Did you  _ want _ . . ? No. Look.”

He took her gently by the shoulders and pointed her at the advent calendar. The two windows from yesterday and today had been opened. 

She stared at it, then stared at it some more. She took a step forward and reached to touch the windows, to make sure she wasn’t imagining it. Such little, simple things; who would have thought they’d cause that much disturbance in their lives. She lightly turned the tiny shutters back and forth.

“I told you about the candy, it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore,” she said slowly.

“Well, I guess that's what we get for being idjits. You chose to share with us something that is important to you. That means something to us and I think we'd all like another chance to show how much we appreciate it. If you can?”

She flipped the shutters closed, then open again. Eight more days till Christmas, and almost all the windows were open now, the colorful pictures inside them bright and cheerful. 

She looked up at John and smiled. “I guess I can work something out with this.”

John's answering smile was full of gratitude. He scooped her up in another hug and held her tightly like he wasn't going to let go, making the coldness in her belly melt. Finally his arms loosened somewhat and he murmured, “Thank you, kiddo.”

They eventually came out into the library, and John led the way to the table where a laptop and a bunch of papers were waiting.

“Sam and Alex’s notes are all in here,” John said. “I want an integrated report, complete with the research section and your account of the hunt. If you need to ask Alex or either of us anything, just call us over. Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Alright, then. Get to work.”

Edge looked doubtfully at the chair standing in front of the table. The kind of report John demanded, made up to meet his high standards and indexed into the Men of Letters database, would take her a couple of hours at the very least; she wasn’t looking forward to spending that much time sitting on a welted ass.

She had half a mind asking John if she could work standing up, almost opened her mouth to do it, too, then thought better of it. She took a little breath before gingerly lowering herself onto the seat. The pain flared immediately, and she shifted a bit and stifled a moan. This was going to be a long day.

She looked up at John; he nodded slightly and reached to open the laptop, then gave her a little smile, and she could feel his hand on her back for a moment before he turned to leave.

Sam had created a form on the shared archive for them to enter reports of hunts; Edge opened a blank form, tapped her fingertips on the table for a minute, then started typing.

The clicking of the keyboard was the only sound for a short while, and then she heard footsteps, and raised her eyes.

Panda and Tosca had apparently just entered the library. Panda stood, seeming uncertain and a bit awkward, like she was finding it hard to meet Edge's gaze. 

Tosca shifted her weight and glanced at Panda, looking unsure if she should go first or let Panda take the lead.

Panda saw the look and took it as a prompt. She forced  her eyes up to meet Edge's. “Hey, um, John said we could come in here to talk to you for a minute. We made sure to ask him if it was okay first.” She paused to see if Edge had any response or Tosca had anything to add. 

“I’m glad you did,” Edge said. She dropped her stare for a minute, then raised it back. “I owe you an apology. For making a scene like that. It wasn’t… I’m sorry I lost it, you didn’t deserve to be in the middle of it.”

Tosca shook her head adamantly. “No, Edge, you’re not the one who should be apologizing, it’s us.” 

Simultaneously, Panda's eyes widened and she exclaimed, “We don't blame you at all!” She looked sideways at Tosca and couldn't suppress a small huff of laughter. “Well, I guess one of us should go first, instead of trying to talk over each other.”

Tosca sighed heavily. “I’m sorry...that we forgot about the advent calendar, I know that was your special thing. I didn’t mean to forget about it, really.” She glanced at Panda.

Edge raised a hand to stop Panda from replying. “Look, it wasn’t your fault. I should’ve stopped this crap when I saw people weren’t on board with it, and instead I just kept pestering you and getting myself worked up over it. It wasn’t worth it, any of it.”

Panda came closer, tears springing to her eyes. “But that's not - none of that's true! I know I get scatterbrained sometimes, but I'm so sorry I was a bad friend. I thought it was so sweet when you told us about it; I just forgot. Look!” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened up an app, before pushing it toward Edge. “I set a reminder for my next day so I won't forget. Please forgive me for making you think it wasn't important to me.”

“That goes for me too,” Tosca chimed in, “I’ve enjoyed learning about everyone’s family traditions and special things they do for the holidays. There’s just been a lot going on, you know?” 

Edge looked at the phone; the screen started to blur, just a little, and she deliberately blinked a few times. “That’s… I don’t… you actually set a reminder for that?” She looked back up at Panda. She tried to smile, but her lips were trembling.

Panda reached out to squeeze her arm. “Well, yeah. I'd have done it before, but I thought I could just remember. I'm sorry I hurt you, Edge.” She spoke the last words in a low tone, sounding like she was just keeping more tears at bay. 

“Yeah, me too,” Tosca stepped close and put her hand on Edge’s other arm. “Do you forgive us?” 

Edge passed her gaze from one girl to the other, blinking even harder now, and then stood up so suddenly the chair nearly tipped over. She grabbed her sisters’ sleeves, one in each hand, and pulled them to her. “You don’t need to be forgiven,” she said between sniffles. “But I’ll forgive you if you do the same for me.”

“Of course, but there’s nothing to be forgiven!” Tosca said, moving closer to put her arms around Edge. 

Panda reached to embrace both her sisters. “You didn't do anything as far as I'm concerned, but I'll say I forgive you if you need to hear it.”

Tosca put one of her arms around Panda, drawing her in so that they were all hugging. 

As they broke apart, Panda smiled at both of them. “I'm glad you're okay, Edge.” She sobered and shifted her eyes away a bit awkwardly. “I felt bad we got you in trouble, and I was worried about you.”

Tosca nodded. “Me too. Things have been...tense around here lately.”

“You didn’t get me in trouble, I managed that on my own,” Edge replied. “I guess I should’ve been more… careful? With everything going on.”

Panda's nose wrinkled a little. “I guess if I'd have thought much about it, I'd have hoped they would be more likely to be lenient so close to Christmas, but on the other hand, that doesn't sound like them, does it? Letting us get away with something, if we've earned . . . that kind of ‘discussion’.”

Tosca chuckled ruefully. “Yeah, they aren’t real big on letting things slide, especially when it comes to rules and all that...and this time of year is always more...stressful for everyone. Even if you enjoy it, it’s still stress, it’s just a good kind of stress. And we all...handle it in different ways.” 

“Yeah,” Panda conceded. “That's true. They might say that we're even more in need of stability with everything all chaotic, and that includes knowing that the rules - and the consequences - are the same as always.” She shrugged. “He . . . he wasn't too hard on you?” She peeked sideways at Edge. 

“For yelling at John Winchester in front of an audience like I did? He’d probably say he went easy on me because he understood I was upset. Not gonna be sitting down comfortably until Christmas, but yeah, he wasn’t too hard.”

Panda and Tosca winced sympathetically.

“Yeah, John has had his hands full, between me and Alex being disrespectful to him as well...and our butts paid for it,” Tosca said wryly.

Panda's voice was hushed. “Alex seems to be paying for a lot the last few days. I . . . I'm worried about her.”

“Yeah,” Tosca agreed, “I wish we could help her somehow.”

“You’d need to know what was wrong first in order to help,” Edge pointed out. “But she doesn’t seem to want to talk about it. I’d listen if she did, but she doesn’t. She’s just… so off right now. And you can see it worries the guys as well.”

“She does keep to herself for a lot of things, I wish she felt comfortable enough to open up to one of us.” Tosca said.

Panda shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. You're right though, Edge, and I think Dean is taking it harder because . . . Well, he's Dean, but I think he feels more responsible for her since she's most comfortable around him.”

“Dean and Alex do seem to have a special bond. I hope she can talk to him about whatever’s bothering her.” Tosca said with concern. “Eventually!”

“But it’s not just the holiday,” Edge said. “I mean, a lot of people don’t like the holiday for all kinds of reasons, but when Sam called us when we were out on that hunt and put her on the phone - something about the hunt bothered her. You should have heard her, it was…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t even want to think about what might get her so agitated about it. It wasn’t like we don’t go on hunts like this all the time.”

“Yeah, when I told her that you and Dean had left on a hunt, she flipped out, and I didn’t understand why,” Tosca told Edge.

“She still seemed shaken about it -” Panda cut herself off and looked distressed. “I think the best thing we can do is just try to be sensitive about holiday stuff around her and try to be a friend . . . available if she needs to talk, you know?”

Tosca looked ashamed. “I--I tried to apologize to her about the thing with the Elf, but...I got the feeling she didn’t really accept it. I guess...she needs more time.”

Panda rested her hand briefly on Tosca’s shoulder. “I wouldn't take it personally. I don't think she's mad at you for that, it's more likely whatever else that's wrong. Apart from that, all I can think of is trying to be on our best behavior; maybe it'll relieve some of the stress on the guys.”

Edge quirked an eyebrow at Tosca. “You think you can handle that?”

Panda tried to hide her laughter by turning her head and smothering it in a cough. 

Tosca huffed indignantly. “I beg your pardon!” Then she grinned. “Yeah, I can dial my bratting down to the lowest setting for a while.”

“You're a saint, Tosca.” Panda pronounced with mock solemnity, patting her shoulder. 

Tosca batted her eyelashes. “I can be a good girl when I want to be!” 

Edge smirked. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Panda grinned. “We'd better leave you to your report, Edge, before John comes and chases us out.”

“Yeah, my butt’s already sore enough as it is, I don’t need to get into more trouble with John for distracting Edge!” Tosca grinned at her sisters. 

Edge glanced at her chair with disdain. “I can’t say I’m too thrilled about this, but-” she sat back down gingerly, wincing as she settled in her seat. “You’re gonna leave some decorations for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes ma’am, we will,” Tosca assured her.

“Of course!” Panda chimed in, giggling that they'd answered at the same time. “You've got this, Edge. You'll be done in no time!” She exclaimed encouragingly before ducking out of the room. 

Tosca left as well, walking towards the kitchen.

Edge looked after them until they were out of sight, then turned back to the laptop and resumed typing. She wasn’t even aware she was still smiling.


	6. 7 Days ‘til Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you all again so much for reading, reviewing, leaving kudos. Sorry we’re late this chapter, it was a busy week!
> 
> Warning: If certain punishments may trigger you, please check the tags for a new one added.

* * *

The girls and the Winchesters had been in the bunker decorating and baking for hours. Alex was trying to keep it together, she really was. Through her closed door, she’d listened to the chatter and the laughter for as long as she could manage. But when the music started filling the air, the knife that seemed to be stabbing her in the heart twisted painfully and she knew that if she didn’t shut it all out, she would just explode. So with every bit of self-control, and self-preservation really, she rested her tablet against her headboard, put on Netflix and her earbuds, and laid out on her stomach, chin in her hands, legs crossed in the air.

Her show was a very welcome distraction and she'd been watching for awhile when she saw the door open out of the corner of her eye. She couldn’t be sure if there’d been a knock she’d missed or there’d been no knock at all, but as soon as she saw it was John, she had a guess. She put the tablet down, curling her knees in as she turned and sat up, pulling the buds from her ears. Her muscles tightened instinctually. Her last words to him had gotten her paddled and she’d refused to apologize. Every cell in her body was knotted in defense. 

“Hey, we’re about to decorate the tree,” John said. His tone and posture were relaxed, but it felt forced to Alex. “Come and join the family. You don't have to participate, but we want you there. They said to tell you we're turning the music off.”

Being there was participation no matter what, and music or not, nothing good at all would come of her sitting there watching them. “Yeah, thanks, but I’ll pass,” she said. She reached once more for her tablet. 

Frustration crossed his face, but he tried to stifle it. “Come on Alex, can't you be a good sport about this? You wanna ruin your sisters’ good time by hiding away like a hermit?”

“Yeah, I think it’s the opposite, really.” Hiding away like a hermit was what was letting them have a good time. This wasn’t her first Christmas, her first so-called family, and though she hadn’t truly known John long, he was far from a stranger to her. She knew exactly where this would end if he kept it up and it wouldn’t be pleasant for anyone. All he had to do was let her stay in her room and she could protect them from all of it. “I promise, John, no one will want me out there.”

John's deep breath was audible. His voice sounded strained, but remained level. “And I'm saying you're wrong. Just come out and be a part of the family. You should consider yourself lucky to have people that want to spend time with you; are you really that selfish?”

Selfish. The word ripped through her like a wound reopened. Her heartbeat quickened and a rush of something that had no name other than hatred tore through her veins. “Yes,” she seethed, getting to her feet, the bed providing only an illusion of protection between them. She knew he could get around it in an instant if he truly wanted to. “I guess I am just that selfish.”

John's eyes smoldered with anger at her defiance. “No. You're not going to do this. They haven't started yet, they're waiting for you. I'm not asking; you can do as you're told and follow orders for once.”

Last she checked, decorating Christmas trees was far from a life or death situation. “Sorry, John. But I don’t take orders from you.”

John's steely gaze remained on hers. “You may not accept the whipping from me, but you absolutely will follow my orders while you're under my roof. I will give you five minutes to cool off and join us in the war room. I'll be sending Sam in here after you if you don't show.”

“Don’t set your clock by it,” Alex called out after him as he walked out the door. She waited a moment to see if he’d come right back but when he didn’t, she sat back down on her bed against the headboard and returned to her tablet. Why couldn’t they just let her be? Believe her that nothing good would come out of joining them? Her pulse was racing, but whether it was panic or anger, she wasn’t sure. She needed to breathe. If he really was going to send Sam in, everything would be okay. Sam would understand enough, wouldn’t send her out just to set her up and make everyone miserable. Sure she might get a few more with the paddle for her attitude, but she could take that, and it’d be far better than anything that would happen if John forced her out there. Years of experience had taught her that. 

Forced to join, the war room might be aptly named for once. 

A small childlike part of her brain told her to just tell them all the truth, help them understand. But there were only two likely scenarios if she did that. Either they’d completely sacrifice their Christmas for her and she truly would be the most selfish girl on the earth, or they’d not give a rat’s ass how she felt about it. And then, of course, there was everything else she could lose if they found out the whole truth…

No, it was better to just let them enjoy and for her to stay as far away from Christmas decorating as possible. 

She had promises to keep. No matter what it took. 

She’d almost forgotten his promised return, when five minutes had passed and she heard three firm knocks. 

She glanced up from the tablet. It didn’t sound like Sam, and she wouldn’t put it past John to have lied to her, manipulated her. She slowly lowered her ear buds, her muscles tensing with suspicion. If it truly was John at the door then there was no explanation other than he was itching for a fight. Well, she could deliver that, and as long as she could keep it in the room, she could make sure everyone else escaped unscathed. “Come in,” she called out. 

The door swung open and John stepped in. He looked at her levelly. “Look, Alex. We're all waiting for you. I decided I didn't want to bother Sam with this, and the point was to have a good time as a family, not have everyone upset. Please. Just come out and spend a little time with us - you've always enjoyed it in the past; I know I have. Dean made more hot cocoa.”

Her face softened slightly. Any other day, any other week, and the invitation would have warmed her heart. It almost broke it today to have to say no. And maybe it was more than a bit naive to hope that John was actually giving her the choice to stay, but for once she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. “Thank you for the invite, but I can’t, John. I’m sorry.”

John stared into her face for what seemed an eternity, his expression unreadable. “Well, I hope you'll change your mind once you're out there, but either way, I can take you being mad at me.” He moved toward the bed too quickly for her to react and was pulling her toward him, one hand clamped around her upper arm and an arm around her waist. 

“What the fuck...John, let go of me!” She tossed her tablet to the bed before she dropped it, letting her earbuds fall as he pulled her across the room and out the door. She deserved it, really, for giving him one ounce of trust that he might respect her decision. She should have known better. He and her uncle were cut from the same cloth. Just like her uncle had always told her. 

“Damn it, Alex. I don't know what this is all about, but I guarantee you hiding away in your room ain't gonna solve it. Spending a half an hour out here isn't going to kill you.” His voice seemed more perplexed than angry, but it was strained from the effort of keeping her moving down the hall. She could tell he was doing his best not to hurt her or be rough with her, but she wasn't in the mood to give John brownie points when he shouldn't be forcing her anywhere. 

“Why are you doing this, why won’t you all just listen to me?” She fought him, every step of the way, hoping she could get him to give in before they were front and center with an audience. “I don’t want to decorate your goddamn Christmas tree, I don’t want to decorate anything, I just want to be left alone!”

“And I already told you that you don't have to lift a finger, but you will be there.” 

“Why?” she demanded. 

He pulled up and faced her. “I've already gone over this, Alex. Every single person here wants you there and will be miserable if you don't show. And I don't think it's good for you to keep moping and hiding from everybody. Half an hour with your family. You want to; when your time’s up, you can go back to whatever you were doing. I'm not asking a lot here. Make your sisters, and Sam ‘n Dean believe you want to spend a little time with them.”

It’s not good for you to keep moping and hiding from everybody. 

The memory of those words rang in her ear. And the pain of them tore through her. “Fine,” she snapped, pulling away from him and storming toward the inevitable.

Anger fueling her, keeping a close eye on John behind her, she made her way out to the war room. The lights on the tree cast a glow in the room as the girls looked through the boxes of ornaments that had been set out on the map table. Popcorn garlands were already draped around the branches. 

Sam and Dean looked up when she entered, both of them freezing with their mugs of no-doubt-spiked cocoa halfway to their mouths. Their faces turned from easy and carefree to concerned at the sight of her. 

The girls seemed still unaware of her as they debated about which ornaments should be put on the tree.

Tosca tilted her head, looking at the fir. “Let’s put all the balls on first, and then the other ornaments.”

“You need to specify when you say ‘balls’, Tosca,” Edge said. “There are, like, thirty kinds of balls here.”

Tosca picked up a plain red glass ball. “I mean these, the regular ones. We can add the fancy ones later.” She wrinkled her nose. “One year my mother insisted we only put red balls and lights on the tree, it was dumb. On second thought, maybe we shouldn’t put these on at all!”

Panda laughed, “Okay maybe I've got the humor of a five year old, but can we stop saying ‘balls’? I hope we get to use some of these reindeer ornaments; they're cute and we can pretend they're moose.”

Alex glanced behind her once more to see John nodding at her to take a seat. She would have much rather hung back, but she sat down at the table, looking at the boys. She tried to figure out if they’d been in on this, if they’d sent John in to get her, too afraid to try and coax her out on her own. Their eyes just shifted back and forth between each other, her, John, and the decorations on the table. 

Tosca set the red ball back in its box, and picked up a box of pretty glass snowflakes. She held the container out to Alex. “Want to put an ornament on?” she asked softly.

Alex felt the ache in her heart as she looked at the snowflakes. They were beautiful. They reminded her of… “No, thank you, Tosca,” she whispered. 

Panda looked from Alex to Tosca and back, her eyes wide. She set her hand on Tosca's arm comfortingly, while addressing Alex. “You, you don't have to, it's okay either way. Whatever you want. Do you want me to get you some cocoa? Or cider?”

“No, I’m...fine.” She was sure it was obvious to everyone, Dean especially, that she was anything but fine. Her pulse was racing. She felt light headed just looking at the tree, the lights, the ornaments. She wanted to run. But she could feel John’s unrelenting gaze behind her, holding her in place. “I’m fine,” she told them. 

As if he could read her mind, John spoke up at that moment. “All right, girls, now that everyone's here, what did you decide? Are we going with a theme or just seeing how many decorations we can fit on the tree without it falling over?”

“I’d vote to load the tree,” Edge said. She glanced over at Alex. “Um, do you wanna take a vote?”

John sat down at the head of the table, looking at her pointedly. “Yeah, Alex, what's your vote?”

She couldn’t stop herself from glaring at him. “I don’t have a fucking vote, John, I don’t care what you all do.”

The muscle in John’s jaw twitched, but he looked away. 

Dean came up behind Alex and rested a hand on her shoulder. He didn't say anything, he acted like he was just getting a closer look at some ornaments, but it was clearly meant as a warning. 

John continued. “What about you, Tosca? Panda?”

“Umm...I think we should put enough ornaments on to make it look tasteful,” Tosca said carefully, looking around at everyone.

Panda's voice was subdued. “I, I really like reindeer and snowflakes. As long as we have some on there, I don't have any other preferences.”

Alex’s thoughts drifted to her past, to reindeer and snowflakes. She stiffened under Dean’s touch. It had been nowhere close to a half hour, but she didn’t care. “I can’t do this,” she muttered as she started to get up. 

John whipped around, pointing at her. His voice was under control for now, but he was obviously angry. “Don't you dare. Thirty minutes. You can take it out on me all you want, but they don't deserve to be punished.”

She felt Dean's hand tighten on her shoulder, but she ignored it. Her gaze sharpened until no one else existed in the room except her and John Winchester. She knew that look far too well to even dare a distraction. “But I do deserve to be punished,” she snapped, matter-of-fact. “You always think I do, don’t you?”

“We don’t need to do this,” Edge took a tiny step toward John. “We’ll just get a few other ornaments up, it’s fine with us, just-”

John's face softened marginally as he looked at Edge. “That's very kind, Edge, but this isn't about that. It won't hurt Alex to sit with us for a few minutes so we can be together as a family. Dean, will you sit down? You don't need to protect her from me; this is ridiculous.”

Dean took his hand off of her reluctantly and took a step back. 

But Alex barely noticed with John’s words reverberating in her ears. “It won’t hurt Alex,” she repeated aloud. “It won’t hurt Alex. You don’t give a fuck whether it hurts me or not! You don’t ever give a fuck who you hurt, do you? Me, Sam, Dean, doesn’t matter as long as John Winchester gets his way!”

Tosca gave a stifled gasp. 

John took a calming breath. “You're being unreasonable, Alex. I'm not trying to hurt anyone. That would be you, with your shouting and language, and hiding away from the family; making everyone walk on eggshells around you.”

“I wouldn’t be making anyone walk on eggshells if you would just let me stay in my room. I didn’t ask to come out here. I didn’t ask to decorate your goddamn tree or drink your stupid cider or be a part of this family you had to create for yourself because you’d fucked up your own so badly!”

“Really?” John's voice was a sneer of anger. “Is that what you think? Sit down, Dean. She's trying to manipulate the situation to get herself kicked out - that's what she wants, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let her.” 

She heard the chair scrape aggressively against the floor as Dean complied. Of course he did, John had trained him to be his good little soldier. She finally broke her gaze from John to look at him. Dean was fuming, that much was obvious. Whether it was at John or her or just the two of them at each other’s throats she wasn’t sure, but one thing she knew for certain. He wasn’t taking her side anymore. 

John continued, furious. “Now, you can tantrum all you want, cuss me out if it makes you feel better, but it's not getting you out of this. So you may as well just sit tight and wait out the thirty minutes. Maybe you'll actually enjoy yourself if you stop acting like a brat, but it's all the same to me.”

“Once a bully, always a bully, right John? Sit down, Dean. Stay quiet, Sam. That’s all you’ve ever done, isn’t it, order people around, order them around!” She pointed at Sam and Dean. “Force them to be your fucking little soldiers, and screw to hell whatever they wanted to do! You fuck them up, and now you think you can do it with us, too? Do it with me? Well, you can go to hell, where you belong!”

Dean jerked to his feet, his face quickly turning from disbelief to fury. “That's enough!” he growled, whether it was directed more to John or to her she didn't know. He reached her in a couple strides and grabbed her wrist, pulling her along with him down the hall

“I tried,” Alex yelled. Dean’s hand around her wrist was burning, but not as hot as her anger. “I tried to tell him, I tried to-”

Dean gave her wrist a short tug, his voice cold. “I said. That's. Enough!” 

She shut her mouth, wincing when Dean’s grip twisted her skin as she turned left toward her room, but he pulled her right. “What the...where are we going?”

Dean didn't reply, he barely spared her a glance out of the corner of his eye, and what she saw there did not bode well. All of a sudden, he ducked into the bathroom, pulling her in after him. She flinched as he slammed the door behind them and turned her to face him, before letting go of her wrist. 

Her eyes darted around the room, confusion and fear racing through her veins. Alex cursed herself. She didn’t brat and tantrum like her sisters, she prided herself on being cool and calculating, measuring her misbehavior against the most likely of punishments. Hurting John Winchester wasn’t something she’d feared. She’d warned him. Warned them all the pain her presence would cause her sisters, John, Sam. She knew because she’d lived it all before.  
  
But she’d miscalculated this time. Because she’d never had someone like Dean before. Someone she cared so much about. And caught up in her own pain, she’d forgotten Dean’s fervent loyalty to his dad. She’d forgotten not only the anger he’d feel but the pain her words would cause him. The betrayal of his trust. The trust she wanted most in the world.  
  
“Dean…”

He fixed her with an angry stare, interrupting her, “I never would have dared to speak to my father the way you just did.”

Alex knew it. And it scared her. Because this time she wouldn’t just be proving she could take whatever he could. This time she truly stood in his judgement. 

Dean continued. “Sam had enough of a mouth on him to make up for it, so I'm thinking I know just what to do about yours. This ain't even the first time this week you've been talked to about this, Alex; I can't believe you'd . . . I won't stand by and watch you disrespect him like that. That's unacceptable to me. If you didn't know that already, I guess you will. Skirt and panties off. Right now.”

Alex’s eyes widened at that. “O...off?” The panties were no big deal, but her skirt, it always protected her, kept her from being completely exposed. Her skin flushed with embarrassment. “Dean, please.”

Dean's eyebrows lowered, “Really? You're gonna backtalk me now? Move.”

“I’m not…” She wasn’t talking back, not really, but clearly the tremor in her voice wasn’t moving Dean at all. Fingers trembling, she slipped off her panties, letting them fall to the floor. She raised her hands to the button on her skirt, but paused. Dean’s eyes were like ice, she’d never seen him so angry, but she still believed that beneath it, he understood her better than anyone. “Please, can’t I just-”

He took a step closer to her and hunched down slightly, tipping her chin up so their faces were very close. “You. Are. In. Trouble. Are you not getting that, Alex? This is part of your punishment. Do not make me bare you, because I will and you won't like it.”

She got it, she’d just hoped…

She blinked back her tears. It was probably too late, she should have bluffed from the beginning, but she bit her lip and pulled herself together. It was Dean. She could take a punishment from him, even looked forward to it sometimes. She could ignore that this was different somehow, as different as when he’d smacked her hands.

She popped the button on her skirt, held her head high, and unwrapped it, tossing it to the side. “There,” she said, all defiance returned. “Happy now?”

Dean's jaw flexed. “No! I'm not happy. Nothing about this makes me happy. Stay there.” He turned away from her and went into the tall cupboard where the towels and other supplies were kept. He pulled out a bamboo bath brush and hefted it in his hand. Then he reached in again and turned around holding a wrapped bar of plain white soap in the other.

It was the kind he and John used, she knew the sharp fresh scent well. Dean had been ridiculously pleased to be able to buy the large bargain pack, saying that on the road it hadn't been practical, but in the bunker they had cupboards to store things like that. 

Adrenaline flooded her, her stomach dropped, and she felt a dull thud in her lower back as she realized she’d backed away from him and hit the sink. The bath brush she’d expected, but there was only one reason to pull out a fresh bar of soap. “Dean, no…”

He didn't answer her, didn't look at her. He simply walked up and reached around her to set the brush in the sink. Then he took a step back, pinning her with a glare. He started to unwrap the bar of soap. 

“You aren't going to talk to him that way again. You do, I don't care if Sam already got to you first, I won't stand for it.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. I really am.” Her heart was pounding in her chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

The words and her sincerity seemed to catch him off guard, but he shook his head. “That's not what this is about, but if that's what stops you next time, fine. Turn around. Hands on either side of the sink. I want your eyes on the mirror.”

To say she was terrified was an understatement. The bath brush she could take. It would be awful, leave her bruised for sure, but she could take it. But she’d never had her mouth washed out with soap, didn’t think Dean had either, and she couldn’t stop from shaking. Even turning was difficult, her knees nearly giving way, and it may have been only the chill of the porcelain beneath her palms as she gripped the sink that kept her from passing out at the crushing heat that was flooding her body. She tried to lift her head, because surely she could do that but, her eyes blurred with tears, she couldn’t obey. “D...Dean…please...I...”

Dean seemed to ignore her pleading, his voice still hard, but something about it had shifted. “Sam used to run his mouth like that; Dad would whip him for it, but he didn't care, it was worth it to him. One day he was really on a roll, pissed Dad off so much he couldn't see straight. He went out; told me to deal with him. So I did - like I plan on dealing with you now. I went into the bathroom and tasted it first; wouldn't make Sammy do something I'd never done before. It's nasty as hell but you'll live. Eyes on the mirror like you were told, Alex.”

For some reason, the story made her feel better, stronger, and she wiped her eyes on her shoulder and raised them to the mirror. They were red already, her whole face was, and she couldn’t stand the fear she saw in them. She quickly shifted her focus to Dean behind her. 

He nodded once and came around, holding the now unwrapped soap. He reached over her arm to turn on the faucet and ran the bar under the stream for a moment. His eyes met hers in the mirror. “As far as I'm concerned, you were acting like an ungrateful, disrespectful child. You hurt everyone by your behavior without giving it a second thought. You will look at yourself during your punishment, not me. Open.”

It felt like asking a death row inmate to walk to their execution. Inside of her were barrels of anger and frustration and sadness and unbelievable hurt but she couldn’t focus on any of that right now with the dripping suds on the bar of soap falling just beneath her nose. She wanted to refuse, but with one look at Dean’s unrelenting eyes and one thought of Sam standing in her place, she managed to slightly drop her jaw. 

It was enough. The soap was slippery and soft and the feeling of her teeth scraping into it made her wish she'd opened her mouth wider. She had to swallow back a gag as the slimy sensation and the disgusting taste hit her. 

“Hold it.” It wasn't in far enough to hit the back of her throat, thank goodness, or she wasn't sure she could have managed to keep from throwing up. Just having it sit on her tongue and against her teeth was awful. 

It didn’t take long before the soap started to burn on her tongue, suds foaming in her mouth. The tears streaming down her face weren’t helping, just adding salt to the bitter mixture. She couldn’t say a word but it didn’t stop the noises launching from her throat, or the unconscious stomping of her foot as she clung to the sink, begging for a reprieve. Her pitiful, pleading gaze slipped to Dean’s. 

He tapped her face in the mirror forcefully, his eyes not giving an inch. 

She refocused but she couldn’t look at herself and she couldn’t bear the thought of him looking at her with spit and foam oozing out of her mouth and down her chin. She didn’t care one ounce about the skirt anymore, this was the most mortified she had ever been in her entire life. The taste became more horrid, acrid, and bitter with every moment and she curled her tongue searching for just one moment of reprieve, but it only forced the suds further into her throat. She coughed and gagged, keeping the soap in her mouth through sheer force of will alone and the certainty that there would be no mercy if she dropped it. Dean would simply open a new package and start again. 

“This embarrasses you?” His voice was almost a snarl in her ear. “This is nothing compared to what I saw back there. An out of control little brat. That wasn't the behavior of the Alex I know and respect the hell out of; I don't think I could be more disappointed. You will look and face that. Don't you dare try to avoid the punishment I set for you.”

She tried not to listen, not to hear what he was saying, not to feel the shame he wanted her to feel, not to drown in his disappointment. It was almost a relief when one of his hands went to her mid-back and she felt him sweep the edge of her blouse out of the way, then settle there. She knew what was coming and that she could take. His other hand reached around her, gripping the handle of the brush and lifting it out of the sink. He tapped the flat, wet, oval firmly against her butt. 

His hand on her skin grounded her. The familiarity of the brush would distract her with a pain she understood. And her tears would continue to cloud her vision, saving her from seeing either of their pain. 

“Hold on. Don't break position.” He raised the brush and brought it down, striking just under the center of her bottom; the brush large enough to cover a significant portion of both cheeks at once.

The force of the strike shoved her hips into the sink and then a fierce burn blossomed across her cheeks. “Mmmmm!” she groaned around the cursed soap and that hell immediately came back to her. She needed to get it out of her mouth, her lips were starting to burn. 

She’d almost started praying for the next blow to fall when it finally did, then another soon followed. Dean knew what he was doing, swinging with just the right amount of force to quickly set fire to her skin without leaving her muscles more aching and bruised than they already were from Sam’s paddling. Part of her wished he wouldn’t hold back, wished he would make the pain so much worse than the humiliation so she could just ignore it, but he probably knew that too. 

He kept swinging the brush, over and over, every time the same spot, no matter how much her body danced, trying to escape it. She gripped the sink, desperately trying not to grit her teeth into the soap as the brush fell, but the pain swiftly became unbearable and with one more hit she bit too hard. 

It all happened at once; half the soap tumbled from her lips before she screamed at the blow and the rest fell into the sink. Tears streamed down her face and she could barely breathe as she gasped and spit and squeezed her eyes shut in fear. 

Dean's hand was suddenly cupping the back of her neck. His touch was gentle while his voice was firm, and she didn't think he was angry - at least about the soap. “You can spit and catch your breath.”

She did. She spit and she spit but she couldn’t get the film off her tongue or the soap to break free from her teeth or the horrid taste to lessen in the slightest. “Dean, please…” she sputtered, not even sure what she was asking, just needing something. Needing him. 

“We're not finished, but I'm not going to let you drown, kid. Easy.” She felt him brush against her hair as he lifted his hand away. Maybe it was unintentional, but it brought a small measure of comfort.

He waited until she was breathing more normally before reaching past her and grabbing the largest hunk of soap with some difficulty. He rinsed it under the faucet before holding it in front of her lips again. “Open.”

Her eyes widened, turning to him. “No, no, please, Dean, I can’t,” she begged, starting to cry and hyperventilate again. Her arms wrapped around herself. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll take anything else, do anything else, but please, I can’t do that again.”

“Hey! You can; you will take the punishment I set for you. You'll show me you can have self control. Calm down.”

She shook her head, the rest of her body starting to shake as well. “I can’t,” she said, her head spinning. 

He set the soap on the ledge of the sink and took her elbow as his other arm snaked around her waist. “Hey, hey. What the hell, Alex?” His tone was full of concern and he carefully held her to him. She curled into his chest, sobbing, wishing she wasn’t because the soap residue just kept foaming more and she had to be careful not to swallow. 

“Damn it! Here, kiddo, spit.” He leaned her over the sink and waited for her to obey. “Can you tell me what is hurting so bad, cause I know it wasn't the paddling . . .” He brushed his thumb across her cheek, clearing away some stray soap foam, before bringing her close into his chest again. 

“Th...the soap,” she managed between staggered breaths. “It’s...it’s awful...it burns...I can’t…”

He pulled back and put his thumb on her chin so he could look in her eyes. “I know it is. That's why it's a punishment, but I know you, and something being yucky isn't enough cause for what's happening. You want to try again?”

She wished she could just curl up in a ball and disappear. Her face flushed hot. Not only because he knew her so well, not only because of the reprimand, but because it was the last thing she wanted to admit. “I...it’s humiliating...you seeing me like that.”

Dean was completely taken aback. “That's what this panic attack is about?” He frowned, clearly worried, but his anger remained, bubbling under the surface. “Alex, you know I couldn't care less about there being soap slime on your face, right? I was a lot more upset about the contempt on your face and the vulgarity and disrespect coming out of your mouth back in the war room. Do you not get that?”

She nodded against his hand, wishing for the comfort of his flannel again. His soft care contrasted so sharply with the burn of her bared paddled bottom, the foulness on her tongue, and the fierce reprimand on his lips. But with his eyes so stern, his voice so full of authority, something stirred inside of her. Something so strong and deep and dangerous and...necessary...she was pretty sure if she could live in this moment for the rest of her life, she could finally be happy. “Yes, sir,” she said, her voice still small but also full of...purpose. “I get it. I’m so sorry.”

He didn't say anything for awhile. He stroked her back gently. “Are you? Sorry?” She could feel the question rumbling through his chest.

And her own. She was sorry. Sorry that she’d made a scene. Sorry that she’d hurt Dean. She understood now how much disrespecting John felt to Dean like she was disrespecting him. She was sorry if it hurt Sam too. And the girls...she was sorry that they’d had to see all that, that they couldn’t just enjoy decorating the tree like she’d wanted them to. She was sorry how much her pain hurt them. 

But mostly she was sorry that John hadn’t listened to her and had forced this on all of them. 

“Yes,” she said. Her tears had stopped and she pulled away. A resolve had returned, to her voice, to her heart. No matter what his father had done, Dean didn’t deserve this. She could be good for him. She would be good for him. She owed him that. “I’ll show you.” 

She could feel him, for a moment, weighing her words in his head, then saw her resolve mirrored in Dean's eyes. “Yes, you will, and you'll start by finishing getting your mouth washed out.” Alex closed her eyes, her stomach dropping but she took a breath and let her lids flutter open. Dean’s warm stare gazed back at her. “It doesn't matter how angry I am, I will always take care of you, and I'm never going to judge you for accepting the punishment I set for you.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex said, nodding. Now her belly fluttered with something else entirely. “I know.”

Something flickered in his eyes, a measure of pride. He guided her back into position over the sink. “You're going to take six more swats holding the soap in your mouth. When I release you, you may rinse and spit, then we'll finish up the rest of your punishment.” She could feel his eyes on her, judging her reaction. 

She stood straight, chin up. No matter the racing of her heart, the complete revulsion she felt at having that taste, that feel, back in her mouth again for even another second, she would obey. “Yes, sir.” 

He reached around her, picking up the chunk of soap. His other hand cupped the back of her head. “Open.”

She looked at him in the mirror, and then at herself. And she opened her mouth for him. 

He placed it in her mouth, holding it suspended there; she could feel a couple drops fall on her tongue. “Bite down, not too hard this time.”

She felt the nausea rise in her body. She didn’t want to bite, she didn’t want it in her teeth, she didn’t want this at all and she almost broke free once more. But then she caught his eye, looking back at her with trust. And she couldn’t let him down. With every ounce of willpower, she closed her teeth around the bar. 

“Good girl.” His voice was low and warm and his hand slipped down from where it rested against her hair, keeping contact until it was pressed into her lower back. He gathered up her shirt again. 

She shivered as the cool oval of the bathbrush was placed against the heat of her bottom and she tightened her hold on the sink. Her breathing grew hard through her nose in anticipation. “You earned this, Alex, and you know it.” 

He lifted the brush and brought it cracking down against her bottom. She winced at the blow, sharper this time than before, but she forced her jaw to stay loose. The suds on her tongue started to sting, but then Dean spoke. His voice had sharpened, too. 

“I never want to hear you, or hear of you, speaking to my father that way again.”

The deep rumble of his voice surged through her, sparking every ounce of submission inside her. The soap was forgotten. The paddle was nothing more than a call to attention. Her focus was entirely on him. 

She felt another ‘thwack’ over the same target as before, and the fire that had dulled in the comfort of his arms was back full force. But it was as if it was setting his words aflame. 

“You would never talk to me that way; Wouldn't dare.” His tone on the last word turned flat and she shuddered. He was right, she wouldn’t ever, but it wasn’t just a statement of truth. It was an order. A warning. One she would absolutely heed. 

The brush descended again and she couldn’t help but glance up at him. The pain she saw beneath his anger nearly broke her. “I expect you to treat John with the same respect you do me. If you don't feel he’s earned that after everything he's done for you, honor the fact that he's the man who raised me.” Tears welled in her eyes. She had too many feelings about that, too many memories, to let it sit with her, but thankfully the next blow was even harsher, the words hurting even more than the paddle ever could. “Honor the fact I've spent my entire life looking up to John Winchester, and I would rather you'd have spoken to me that way than see you do it to him.”

She was sobbing now, shame, and something else, flooding her every sense. Soap and tears ran down her face but none of that mattered to her anymore. The disrespect, the contempt she’d displayed for the one person that Dean showed deference to whether she liked it or not. It was the same deference she so desperately wanted to show Dean. It was the shame of that that consumed her. 

The next stroke fell and she realized that somehow she'd managed to lose count. “But what really kills me, Alex, was that you may as well have been screaming those words to me. You would have known if you'd stopped to think; You know exactly how I feel about him, and you did that right in front of me anyway.”

He snapped the brush against her bottom once more, holding it there against her blazing skin. His voice came just inches from her ear and she shuddered at his words. “The next time you feel like speaking to him that way, I want your tongue to burn at the very thought, and know that I would consider your words more disgusting than that soap.” 

It felt like an eternity, him standing there with his angry breath on her neck and the brush smoldering on her ass. But finally, she felt him drop her shirt, and move his hands to better support her and she realized he'd put the brush down. 

One hand came around and formed a cup under her mouth. “Spit it out.” 

She did, expelling it from her lips as if the words she’d used to hurt Dean could be banished with it. Her tears kept falling but she held what was left behind in her mouth, needing to catch her breath but needing to obey absolutely even more.

He was still talking, his steady voice like a lifeline. “Keep your hands on the sink.” He put the soap on the ledge and turned the water on, warm this time. “Spit, Alex. That part's over. I've got you.”

With relief, Alex spit out the rest of the suds and foam, wishing she could scrape it from her teeth and tongue. She finally gasped for air. 

Dean's hand came back to cradle her head as his other cupped under the running water, before moving to her lips. “Let it just run in and out of your mouth a couple times, then you can swish it in your teeth.” 

Alex obeyed, letting the water slip over her tongue and wash away the worst of the bitterness, soothe the worst of the burn, before rinsing it through her teeth. A film remained behind, but she trusted that Dean would let her brush that off when he was ready, and not a moment before. 

She caught a glimpse of him in the mirror; he was watching her, his face full of gentle caring. He cupped his hand under the faucet yet again. “Close your eyes.” She did and felt the warm water cascade down her face. His fingers followed, brushing away the evidence of her shame. 

Afterward, he carefully dried her face with the towel. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

His hand combed through her hair briefly, moving the stray strands that were sticking to her cheeks. “You can open your eyes. We're going to finish up your spanking in a moment, you just hold your position.”

It was strange, the mix of dread and relief that rushed through her. She knew she had it coming and the truth was she wanted it, needed it. But there was no denying how hard it would be to get through. 

His hand rested on her back again, firm and grounding. “You can make yourself be heard without resorting to disrespect. You're smart enough to say what you need to say without using those words. You can appeal to me or Sam if you need to - if you feel he's not listening, or like you need support. Don't let this happen again.”

“Yes, sir.”

She felt the brush tap against her bottom and she realized he'd flipped it; it was the long handle that he was holding against her rear. She barely had time to register that thought before it cracked down across both cheeks. She wanted to be strong but she couldn’t help flinching at the searing stripe blossoming on her skin. 

“Eyes back on the mirror,” Dean demanded. “I want you to really look at yourself. Look at your behavior.”

Swallowing hard, she raised her eyes just as he started whipping the brush handle down rapid fire, lecturing with every blistering stroke. 

Through the pain, his voice reached her ears. “I'm completely at a loss here, Alex. You have so many people that want to help you; that would do anything for you.”

The strokes seemed to fall at random, from the top of her bottom to the middle of her thighs, but no matter the assault, it was his words that were the most scorching. She thought back to Tosca, bringing her her favorite chocolates and ice cream. Panda, just trying to make sure she was okay.

“You keep pushing us away; keep throwing this attitude around. You're hurting your sisters with your behavior.”

They deserved better. They all did. They deserved a Christmas together with family and fun and the freedom to decorate and celebrate however they wanted. Staring at the tears welling in her eyes, gritting her teeth to keep from crying out at the pain, she knew none of them deserved this. 

“You think Sam and I enjoy having to whip your ass every ten minutes? It's killing me. Knowing something's wrong that you can't talk to me about is killing me.”

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, unable to hold back any longer. She wanted to beg for forgiveness, beg for it to stop, surrender and tell him everything, but she knew that the truth, the whole truth, would hurt him even more, so she held it all inside, focusing on the welts he raised on her skin - never letting up, or changing the blistering pace - instead of the pain in her heart. 

“Your acting up is making everyone miserable. It has to stop, Alex.”

As she looked at herself in the mirror, she knew that Dean was right. She couldn't do this anymore. Not to them. Not to herself. Not for another week. Tears streamed down her face. Not because of the pain but because of what she knew she had to do. What she knew she had to leave behind.

“It will, Dean. I promise,” she said through her tears. “This is the last time. You won’t have to do this anymore.”

He dealt several more solid whacks with the brush handle, then stopped. “I don't . . . I just want you to be okay.” Dean's voice sounded suspiciously close to tears. 

One glance at him told her she’d heard right. His eyes were red, sweat shimmered on his brow. She felt a tightening in her chest as guilt overwhelmed her and she had to look away. “I am,” she lied, wiping her eyes against her shoulder. “You don’t...you don’t have to worry about me anymore, Dean. I...I’ve learned my lesson.”

He huffed a short breath through his nose. “Yeah. Okay.” He muttered something under his breath. Maybe, ‘Have you met me?’ 

He shifted his hand on her back and slowly pulled it away. “Can you stand?”

Her skin was raw and bruised, her back sore from holding position. She realized her knuckles were nearly white, she’d been gripping the sink so hard, but she nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You can let go.” She could sense him hovering, waiting to support her if she needed it, but she loosened her hands and straightened on her own, flexing her fingers to help the blood rush back to her limbs.

“Get dressed. Sam always wanted to brush his teeth right away - you can if you want.” He moved to lean against the door, giving her some space.

Alex picked up her skirt and panties from where she’d dropped them at her feet and put them back on, then grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste. She’d nearly forgotten that the bitterness and burn in her mouth had come from anything other than her words and as she washed it away she was almost grateful for the fire that still burned her backside. 

She wiped her face and stood up, looking at Dean in the mirror. As troubled as he looked, she seared the image into her mind like a photograph. A memory she could take with her. 

He looked up at her. “C'mon.” He straightened and opened the door, gesturing at her. 

He put a hand on her upper arm and guided her through the halls back to her room. Every step hurt, but she didn’t let him see that. He opened the door and looked at her a long moment. “I should have you write an apology to John, but I honestly don't know if I am up for that fight with you right now.” He sighed. “Is - is there anything you need? Or maybe something that you want to tell me, Alex?” His eyes pleaded with her to give him something, to let him in - let him help her. 

She choked back her tears. Part of her wanted to, wanted to do anything she had to to make things right with Dean. But the pain he would feel if he understood her feelings about John, as much as it hurt, she couldn’t put that on him. It would be better for all of them if she were to go it alone. “It’s okay, Dean. I’m okay. You should...you should go back out with everyone. I’m sure they’re worried.”

The disappointment on his face was indescribable. He touched her cheek briefly. “If you change your mind, you come find me; text me. I don't care where I am or what I'm doing.” He looked like there was so much more he wanted to say, but he only sighed again and turned reluctantly to head back down the hall. 

She watched him go, her heart aching more than her butt ever would as he disappeared down the hall. She went inside and shut the door, her tears breaking free the moment it closed. “Fuck!” She slammed her hand against the door, sinking to her knees. She hated them all; John, her uncle, the monsters that kept destroying lives long after their kills. 

Sam and Dean for saving her in the first place. For making her love them.

Sobs wracked her body, her resolve slipping and growing with each minute that passed. But as minutes turned to an hour she knew that this was untenable. In the morning they would be back; to check on her, to get her to talk, to urge her to join, and she’d be back here again, day after damned day until Christmas was finally over. She couldn’t put any of them through that. There truly was only one choice. 

She had to leave. 

* * *

It was 3am when the alarm she’d set rang and she awoke from a fitful sleep. She couldn’t remember exactly what she’d dreamed, but the pain that pulled at her heart and throbbed in her ass were enough to continue to fuel the determination she’d felt before going to bed. 

She slipped out from beneath the covers and pulled on new clothes. If she were smart she’d wear one of the few pairs of pants she owned or even tights, but neither sounded fathomable, walking the length of Lebanon in her condition. Still she’d bring them. It was December, and at some point protection from the cold would win out over the comfort of her welted backside. 

She grabbed her stash of cash, won mostly after dark at the pool hall or just collecting the change from weekly supply runs. She grabbed her go bag, and very carefully opened the door. 

She listened, hearing nothing but silence. She’d picked the hour where everyone should have gone to bed already and no one should yet be up. Castiel hadn’t been around for a week and he wasn’t expected until Christmas, so she just kept her fingers crossed he wouldn’t make a surprise appearance. 

Turning the knob all the way she silently closed the door behind her and tiptoed her way down to the storage room. She grabbed a bedroll and rations. Sure it would be conspicuous, but hopefully she’d be settled by daylight. There were a bunch of abandoned homes on the outskirts of town. She’d head there, try to figure out her next steps. 

As she passed each of the bunker rooms, memories flooded her. But not memories of so long ago. Recent ones of Sam and Dean and the girls. Tears welled in her eyes. Doubt washed over her. She didn’t want to go, didn’t want to leave them. She’d built a life for herself there, a better one than she’d had in a long time, but she...she wasn’t making their life better. All she was doing was hurting them. 

She found herself in the library, a piece of paper and pen in her hand. She leaned over the table, running her palm over her face before she turned to the page.   
  


_Dear Dean,_   
  
_You can’t possibly imagine how much I want to stay. Or understand how much I need to go._   
  
_I’ve hurt you all so much. Getting the girls in trouble. Forcing you and Sam to punish me when I know how much you hate to. Stealing from all of you the Christmas you deserve. The Christmas everyone deserves. A Christmas filled with joy with your family._   
  
_I can’t have that. But I have no right to take it from you._   
  
_John reminded me of that._   
  
_And I love you too much to..._   
  
_I love you..._

_...too much._   
  


Tears were flowing so hard they dripped down onto the page and she crumpled it in her hands, shoving it in her pocket. She couldn’t do that to him. She couldn’t do any of this to any of them. Better that they think that she’d just gone. It would be easier for all of them. 

She picked up her things and climbed the bunker stairs, opening the door as quietly as she could. With one last look behind her she said goodbye, walked outside, and closed the door on her life with the Winchesters. 


	7. 6 Days ‘til Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you to all of our beautiful readers for sticking with us and commenting so wonderfully. And thank you to Edge_of_Clairvoyance and ToscaRosetti for their contributions to this chapter.

* * *

  
Dean stood at Alex's door waiting for her to respond to his knock. He hoped she would accept his invitation. They could go for a drive; he would find somewhere to take her that wasn't all decked out in Christmas decorations. They could salvage some time and she'd be able to breathe and enjoy herself a little without anyone busting her ass or trying to get her to spill her guts. The silence dragged and he knocked again. Maybe she had her earbuds in . . . He pushed her door open slowly. “Alex?” 

He knew immediately she wasn't there. He didn't have to look, but he did anyway, his spidey sense going haywire. He could search the whole bunker, but that might take some time and he knew it was wishful thinking anyway. He reached down under her bed. They had bought duffles for each of the girls; taught them the value of having a go bag ready at all times, and inspected them twice a month to make sure they were in order. It wasn't there. 

He looked in her closet, glanced around and confirmed that things were missing. He hesitated, then looked where she kept her spare cash. Fucking hell. She was gone. 

He didn't remember going to the garage. He was only vaguely aware he'd texted Sam. 

_Dean: Alex is gone took money and go bag i'm heading out_

This couldn't be happening. He put his hand out to brace against the Impala, suddenly needing the support. He'd known she was off yesterday. All he could see now was how she'd looked before he turned down the hall and walked away. He should have stayed with her, should have kept a closer eye on her, not taken no for an answer when she wouldn't tell him what was going on. 

He shouldn't have been so harsh with her. 

Fuck. All fucking week everyone had been riding her ass. Trying to force the stupid holiday down her throat.

He should have taken her out of the bunker that first day; find somewhere she could get some fresh air, made her feel cared for and safe; eventually coaxed everything out of her. Instead he'd spanked her, hurt her, made her feel like crap . . . shoved a bar of soap between her teeth - made her cry. He raised his hand and slammed it down against the smooth metal. He shouldn't be standing here. 

“Dean?” Sam’s anxious voice echoed through the garage. “Dean, where are you going?”

He rubbed his eyes against his shoulder as he turned to look at Sam. “What do you mean, ‘Where am I going?’ Did you get my text? She's gone, Sam. She up and ran. I'm going to find her and bring her home.”

“Two peas in a pod,” Sam muttered under his breath with a tiny chuckle. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. “And where ya gonna look, Dean? Have you checked with the other girls to see if they know anything? Looked for a note? How ‘bout you just slow down a minute.”

“A - a note?” His hand clenched into a fist as he realized. “She didn't, not in her room, I would have seen it. I can't ‘slow down’, Sam. She's getting farther away every minute. Something could happen to her and it would -” He choked on his words, finishing in a pained whisper. “It would be all my fault.”

Sam raised a worried brow. “And how exactly would it be all your fault?”

Dean glared at him, not in the mood for this time waste. Was Sam really not getting it? Or was he just playing dumb to keep him talking instead of leaving? “She's been making it clear all week that something is wrong, and I haven't done one thing right to actually help her. All I've done was make it worse for her until she was so miserable that she left.” 

“Dean, I don’t think that could be further from the truth. Honestly, the way she feels about you, I wouldn’t doubt if you were the one thing keeping her here for as long as she stayed.”

“Yeah, well if that were true, it still wouldn't change the fact that she trusted me and I wasn't able to fix it - wasn't even able to get her to tell me what was wrong. And you didn't see her face yesterday, after . . . you don't know.”

Sam frowned, his forehead creasing. “After what?”

Dean flinched and looked away for a moment before forcing his eyes back up to Sam's. “After I punished her for going off at Dad like that.” 

Sam looked at him like he was crazy. “Dean, she had it coming, and this is Alex we’re talking about, she’s not gonna run because of a whipping, not with you.”

“I didn't whip her - I mean, yeah, I paddled her butt; that wasn't what . . . I did to her what I used to do to you when you would go that far over the line running your mouth at Dad.”

“Dean, what are you talking about?”

Dean raised one eyebrow skeptically. “You repress it, ‘cause it was such a traumatic memory, Sam? I washed her mouth out with soap.”

Sam’s eyes opened wide. “Oh.” For a moment, Dean could see his little brother regress into that fifteen year old kid right in front of his eyes, before he pulled himself back up again. “How did she…” Sam cleared his throat. “How’d she take it?”

He found himself unable to meet his brother's eye again. “Not - uh . . . not good. She - I had to stop and for a moment; I thought it was too much, but then . . . It seemed like I was able to help her through it. She shook it off pretty fast, but I just figured it was ‘cause she didn't like that I saw her break down like that from a punishment and she was trying to make up for it. Then after - something was wrong, Sam. She was shutting me out. It was a mistake. The whole thing. I screwed up with her. I hurt her. It's on me.” 

“Dean,” Sam said gently, walking over to his brother. “This isn’t your fault. Don’t you know there’s nothing you could ever do to Alex that would make her leave you? This isn’t about you punishing her. Even washing her mouth out.”

Dean scoffed under his breath. “Yeah well, the evidence seems to suggest otherwise!”

“Look, Dean. Even if you did make a mistake, we’ll fix it. Okay? We’ll find her and you’ll talk to her and you’ll find a way to make things right between you, because there’s something...different...I don’t know, that you two have. And I have to think that if she was shutting you out, it wasn’t because you hurt her and it wasn’t to hurt you. She’d do anything to protect you. Maybe she thought shutting you out was one of those things.”

“I -” Dean wasn't sure what to do with that. “Sam, none of that matters if I dropped the ball and she decided to track down the location of the nearest djinn.” The fear sparked by uttering those words was like an icy claw tearing into his chest. He didn't have to explain to Sam what he meant. 

They'd had their suspicions, of course. Some things hadn't added up. The inconsistencies in their stories seemed to suggest something else had happened than just a hunting job gone awry. Then the night John had given his ultimatum, Dean had gone to Alex to try to convince her to stay and she'd admitted that she'd intended to be taken by the djinn on purpose. The allure of living in a fantasy world had seemed the best option to her even though in the real world it was literally a death sentence. 

“Then we’ll find the nearest djinn and we’ll rescue her again. But Dean, I’ve been thinking.” He bit his lip, a tad unsure of himself. “I think we can’t wait anymore for her to tell us what’s going on. I think to understand why she left, we need to understand how she came here in the first place. Find out about her past. Understand what’s really been going on this past week.”

Dean was fully focused on Sam for the first time since he'd entered the room. “Yeah. Okay, I can get on board with that.” 

“I think she’s been really careful what she’s said around us. But what if she slipped with one of the girls? Told them just something that could give us a start to figuring out where she came from? You and Dad can look for the djinn, but I’ll try and figure out her story. I think...she’s closest to Panda. Hopefully she opened up to her even a little, give me a place to start.” He looked to Dean for his approval. 

Dean nodded, feeling slightly more hopeful. “You do your thing. I'll do mine. And Dad's the best tracker there is, if he can't find her -” He swallowed thickly unable to follow that train of thought. 

“We’ll find her, Dean. I promise.”

Dean took a shaky breath and threw Sam a resolute look. “We have to.”

“I know,” Sam said, taking his brother in his arms. Dean could feel Sam’s heart pounding in his chest and he realized Alex meant as much to his little brother as she did to him. “Winchesters don’t leave family behind.”

* * *

The text had said:

_Sam: *URGENT* Family meeting, war room, everybody front and center._

So with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Panda dropped the Christmas card she was making and made her way there, trying to resist the urge to drag her feet. It could be anything, of course, but it hadn't seemed like the kind of group text they'd get if it was something good. And with the way things had been going, she was worried it meant someone was gonna get it.

She peered through the doorway to see that Edge was already seated in one of the chairs. Sam was standing at the head of the table, holding onto the back of a chair, his face grim. Dean was pacing restlessly. 

She ducked her head and scooted into a chair attempting to be as invisible as possible. John joined them next, looking like he was getting ready to head out on a hunt. Maybe this wasn't about one of them after all? But then why were the three of them looking so upset?

Dean took a quick glance back at the table. “I swear to God, Sam, if Tosca is with her…” he muttered under his breath. 

“She’s not, Dean, she’s around, just give her a minute,” Sam tried to reassure him. 

“I can go get her,” Edge suggested, already starting to get up. 

“Everybody stays right where they are,” Dean snapped, his expression hard as he pointed at the table. Panda flinched, eyes wide at the unexpected heat in his response. Then he turned with his back to them all. “Not losing another one,” he added to himself. 

Sam offered Edge a placating smile. “Thank you, Edge, for offering. But I’m sure she’ll be right out.”

“Yes, sir,” Edge mumbled as she sank back into her chair.

Tosca appeared in the doorway, looking sheepish. “Sorry, I was doing laundry and my phone got buried under some clothes and I didn’t hear it…” Upon looking around and seeing their tense faces, she quickly hurried over and sat next to Edge. 

“Urgent means urgent, Tosca,” Sam reprimanded. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“I said I was sorry, Sam!” Tosca huffed, “I couldn’t very well get to my phone if it was buried under a mound of clothes and the sound was muffled!”

“Put the attitude away, now, Tosca,” Sam warned. 

“Why are you jumping on my case, when we’re still waiting on Alex?” Tosca complained.

Without warning, Dean lunged toward Tosca, grabbing her arm to pull her out of her chair, his hand spread for a spanking. But Sam grabbed him before Dean could follow through.

“Get a grip, Dean,” Sam growled, pushing him back away from the table. Dean returned to his pacing. Sam turned back to Tosca. “Alex isn't here, Tosca,” he explained calmly. 

Tosca sat back down in her chair and dropped her eyes to the table.

Panda looked from one face to the other, settling on Sam as the safest. “Sam? Wh-what's going on? Where's Alex?” she all but whispered.

Sam cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets and throwing a quick glance to Dean before answering. “We don’t know. We were kinda hoping one of you might.”

Panda's thoughts swirled at his unexpected answer. They didn't know? Alex was missing? She was probably just hiding out somewhere in the bunker, right? Everybody had been bothering her and she just wanted to be alone. Panda glanced at Dean and John before bringing her eyes back to Sam's. None of them looked like they thought there was any possibility Alex was still in the bunker. “Um,” she shook her head, feeling ill. “No, sir. I don't.”

“Tosca? Do you know where she might have gone?”

“Um, no, I don’t.” She shook her head.

“Edge?”

“I haven’t talked to her today,” Edge passed her eyes from one man to the other. “I don’t understand, she’s not here?”

Dean spun around. “If she were here do you think we would-”

Sam laid a hand on Dean’s arm to calm him. “We will find her,” Sam promised, then turned back to the girls. “She seems to have left sometime last night. Took her bags, her clothes, grabbed a sleeping bag and some rations from the supply cabinet. What do you guys know about her friends, her favorite spots, maybe a boyfriend?”

“We're her friends!” Panda's voice sounded too loud; too high pitched to her own ears, but Dean's temper mixed with her building fear for Alex had her heart in her throat. “We have to go out and find her!”

“No.” This time it was John who spoke, his low grumble silencing Panda as he looked steadily toward her. “None of you girls are going out to look for her.”

“But we can help,” Edge was straightening up, almost rising from her seat again - but just almost. “I’m getting good, you said I am.”

“You are, Edge,” John said, almost lovingly. “So we’re not gonna risk losing you too. We don’t know what’s going on with Alex. Maybe she ran away, but maybe she didn’t. You girls are gonna stay put until we figure it out.”

“You, you can't . . .” Panda's voice shook - at her audacity in defying John Winchester as much as the thought of Alex alone somewhere - especially as upset as her friend had been all week. “You can't stop us from looking for her; she's our sister!”

“I can stop you, and I will,” John said, standing up, his fingers pressed hard into the table. “Any one of you girls step foot outside this bunker and I promise you’ll get a switch across your asses.”

“Dad,” Sam tried to urge calm, but shut his mouth at his father’s glare. 

Edge didn’t try to get up again, but she did frown at John. “So are we supposed to just sit here on our thumbs? We’re worried too, it’s not fucking fair not to let us do something.”

“I know you guys are worried, but you gotta trust us here, Edge,” Sam said. “You all do. If there’s anything you know about Alex that we might not, you tell us. That’s what you can do. It’s not snitching or telling on her. Anything you might know about what she does outside the bunker, could be the thing that helps us find her.”

Panda was suddenly on her feet, her face flushed. All that she’d really processed was that they weren't going to let her help, and the threat of the switching kept echoing in her mind. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She turned and left the room, not really sure where she was going, just knowing she couldn't stay there another second. 

She could hear Sam behind her as she left the room. “Don’t worry, Dean, I got this. You and Dad start searching.”

Her vision became blurry and she almost stumbled into the kitchen. She grabbed onto the island for support, her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions that seemed impossible to sort through.

Her chest was heaving and adrenaline buzzed through her veins. She looked around her, just enough rational thought left to know she didn't want to break anything, but needing some kind of outlet. She lifted a heavy metal pot, hurling it to the floor and it bounced with a satisfying clamor. She weirdly felt a little bit better, and it was enough to make her look around for something else. She picked up a canister of kitchen utensils and cocked her arm back. 

“Woah,” she heard behind her as Sam swiftly scooped the canister out of her hand. Panda backed up, trying to keep the island in between them. Sam didn’t seem to notice. “Think we’re gonna be needing these.” He chuckled silently as he placed them back down on the counter. He bent down and grabbed the pot she’d thrown, putting it in the sink. “You’ll be cleaning that when we’re all done here. Now.” He finally turned around to face her, arms crossed, face stern. He stood there, studying her, for just a bit longer than was comfortable. 

“You wanna tell me what this is all about?” he said. 

Her voice was shaking with emotion. “No! I don't. I came in here to get away from you.” Upset as she was, she still possessed a small measure of self preservation and even as she chose to say the words, "like you even care anyway,” she muttered them under her breath, halfway hoping he wouldn't hear them. 

There was nothing wrong with Sam’s hearing though, and he frowned, his stern facade slipping. “What do you mean I don’t care?”

“Nothing! I mean everyone's been ignoring me all week and it doesn't matter. Shouldn't you be trying to find Alex? Don't you even care she's missing?!!”

He dropped his hands to the island and started around it. Panda tried desperately to keep the island in between them, mirroring his movements to the best of her ability. Sam, though, needed only one reach to grab hold of her hand from across the way. “Not one more step,” he warned her. “You wanna storm away from us while we’re talking to you, act like a brat, accuse me of not caring, not doing my job? You can either face me or march your way into the corner. Those are your only two choices.”

Panda's jaw dropped and even in her current state she felt her legs tremble at his tone. She tried to fold her arms defiantly as best she could with his grip on her hand, but she couldn't meet his eyes and she didn't dare move.

She felt a spike of fear, realizing how badly she'd been behaving and it mingled with shame and embarrassment at how childish she was being. Instead of helping her correct her behavior it caused a sudden flash of temper. After all, she was already in for it. She found her voice and it dripped with insolence. “You're gonna spank me? Alex is missing and that's what you think is important right now? Maybe if you'd cared less about punishing Alex and actually tried to help her, she wouldn't have left!” She put all of her strength into pulling out of his grasp and swept the canister to the floor. It was satisfying - all the utensils went clattering in different directions and she watched them bounce and slide across the floor. 

Sam’s long legs got him around the island and behind her in no time and he grabbed her free hand, holding it behind her back, pressing her against the island. “I am here trying to actually help Alex, but you can bet if you deserve it, I’m gonna spank your ass, and you can bet that if you need it, I’m gonna spank it now. Your choice, little girl.” His patience had clearly worn thin, but Panda was almost beyond hearing him.

She wouldn't have been able to explain the mixture of horror and relief at finding herself pinned, unable to move; she squirmed with every ounce of her strength and couldn't break his hold on her. She put all her emotion - frustration, anger, fear, all of it - in a wordless yell. 

Sam caught the hand Panda still had on the counter, twisted it behind her back and held both her hands in one strong grasp, then spanked her backside, hard, right in the center. “Do you think this is helping Alex?”

He didn’t wait for a response and didn’t hold back over her jeans, quickly delivering a second and third blow to the same spot. She held herself stiffly in his grasp, clenching her jaw as he continued, and just let the sensation of the sharp swats be the only thing she felt or thought about. The familiar sting kicked in and spread as he warmed her skin, top to bottom, right to left. As the burn intensified, she felt tears start to fall down her face as everything that led to this point caught up with her. Suddenly she was sobbing openly, lax in Sam's grip. The spanking was a relief and a release as much as the tears were. 

Sam gave her one last swift smack, then stopped. He brushed a gentle hand over her fiery skin before running his fingers softly through her hair. “Better?”

She clenched her eyes shut and her sobs increased. She didn't deserve his kindness, didn't deserve anything. She felt a knot in her stomach; her chest, and wished she could tell Sam - he would untangle everything and fix it whether she deserved it or not, but she couldn't speak. 

“Okay, c’mere.” Sam pulled her up and into his arms, letting her cling desperately to the edges of his flannel and not seeming to mind the snot and tears when she hid her face in his shirt. She relished having his arms around her for a moment, but soon enough it felt hollow. She hadn't earned this either, and she was so embarrassed by her behavior. She forced herself into silence, trying to calm her hitching breaths and watching her tears soak into Sam's shirt. “Shhh…” he soothed, stroking the back of her head. “Everything’s gonna be okay, just talk to me.”

She cleared her throat. “I - I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean . . . I didn't think those things were true; I was being hurtful on purpose -” She choked back a fresh wave of tears. “I'm sorry. I was the one who didn't do enough to try to help her. I was busy watching Christmas specials and making decorations when she was alone and hurting. I didn't say the right things . . . or something - couldn't figure out what she needed - and now she's gone.” She whimpered in the back of her throat. “And instead of finding her, you're here having to deal with me because I was having a hissy fit. God.” She wished she could disappear. What Sam had to be thinking about her right now. 

“Okay,” he said, holding her out at arms length so he could look at her. She couldn't look at his face, sure she would see disgust and censure there. “We’ll deal with your behavior later. Let’s focus on what we need to do to find her. Can you do that for me?”

She sniffed and looked up at him tentatively. “You - you think I can help? I . . . Yes, sir, I'll do anything.”

“I know you two talked after I...when she was grounded. And I know you don’t want to break any confidences. But if she said anything to you about what was going on this week, or her family, anything at all. You need to tell me.”

She let go of him with one hand and wiped her eyes, thinking back over the conversations she'd had with Alex. 

“She said her uncle used to talk about you guys. And, um, that this time of year is hard for her - I guess that's kind of obvious at this point. And . . . she was talking about the past. Said she was freaked out that something could go wrong with Dean and Edge going on a hunt now. It didn't make a lot of sense, there was a lot she wouldn't say. I didn't know; I didn't want to be rude and push her and make her mad at me, but maybe I should have.”

“No, you did the right thing, just being her friend. Probably wouldn’t have gotten half that information if you’d pushed her.” He patted her on the shoulder. “You did good, kid.”

She had to blink and look away. Her voice was faint. “Thanks Sam. It doesn't feel that way.”

He leaned back against the island, crossed his arms and ankles. “What’s it feel like?”

“Like I let her down. And maybe a little hurt that she left without . . . I thought we were friends, you know, but I must not have been -” she stumbled, cut herself off. “Done a good enough job.”

“Hey. I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told Dean. Her leaving has nothing to do with you. Alex is strong and stubborn and she’s gonna do what she’s gonna do. She’s holding on to a lot of pain and she hasn’t learned to trust us yet. But I think, if we find her, bring her back, she will.”

“She doesn't deserve to be hurting and alone. I just wish we could have fixed it. We've gotta find her, Sam.”

“We will. But you don’t deserve to be hurting and left alone either. I think maybe we have something to take care of first?”

Her heart shot into her throat. She couldn't have said whether it was more anticipation of pain, or relief. The guilt was terrible and he knew; cared enough to not leave her drowning in it. She fidgeted for a minute before forcing her eyes back to his. Her voice was quiet, but clear. “Please.”

His voice was steady. “Please what, Panda?”

She could feel her heart rate spike, her face flush. He was going to make her say the words. That was okay, she could do that. Her tongue didn't want to cooperate, but she was able to force them out. “Please, I deserve a spanking for what I did.”

“You still think punishing Alex wasn’t trying to help her? You think Dean and I, we did it because it made us feel good? Because we wanted to hurt her?”

She wanted to cry at the memory of her cruel words, but she kept the tears at bay long enough to answer. “No sir, I never did. I felt bad about how I failed her. I didn't ever think that, I was just angry.”

“That’s what you said, though, wasn’t it?” He looked around on the floor at the utensils she’d thrown to the ground with such satisfaction. He bent down and picked one up, a slotted wooden spoon, and placed it deliberately atop the metal island. “What else did you do wrong?”

She didn't know if he'd heard the small squeak she felt bubble up in her throat, but she tried to ignore the spoon sitting there, it's meaning clear. She looked into Sam's eyes instead, feeling herself still at the knowledge he was going to allow her to atone for all of it. “I left the meeting. I knew I was supposed to stay there, and I didn't ask to be dismissed.”

“A family meeting needs everyone. Without you…” He bent over and picked up another utensil, a risotto spoon with a round hole in the middle. He laid it next to the slotted spoon. “It’s like there’s a hole in the family. What else?”

She swallowed, kept her eyes pinned to Sam's. “I was throwing things.” She felt herself blush again in embarrassment at the childishness of the admission. 

He reached down and retrieved the wooden spatula, the one that most looked like a childhood paddle. It joined the group of implements waiting for her. “What else?”

“I disobeyed you when you took that away from me and told me not to throw it. I was being defiant.”

“Yes you were.” It only took a second for him to choose the proper implement for that, a long metal handled plastic hand strainer, nearly flat, round, and full of tiny holes. “What else?” he said. 

“I tried to get away from you; I made you chase me.”

He surveyed the mess on the ground, weighing his choices before making his final decision. He leaned down and when she saw his pick, Panda’s eyes opened wide. A square pasta spoon, flat one one side with approximately one inch wooden dowels raised on the other. He placed it last in line.

She started trembling, nerves blossoming into fear at the thought of Sam slamming the dowels into her bottom over and over. She forced herself to focus on his eyes again and was able to breathe a little easier. She deserved some pain for what she'd done, needed it, but Sam would never really hurt her. Whatever he was planning, he would take care of her. She waited for his next words, eager to begin making up for her terrible behavior - showing him how sorry she was - by submitting to him now, no matter how much the awful lineup made her cringe. 

“I have some phone calls to make. Try to make some sense of what you’ve told me about Alex. While I’m gone I want you to pick up this mess. Wash the dishes you’ve so carelessly thrown to the floor and put everything away. Leave these,” he nodded to the utensils he’d chosen, “where they are. I’ll expect it done by the time I get back. Then we can begin.”

“Yes, sir.” She knew she sounded miserable, but it wasn't anything she hadn't earned, any of it. She could hear his footsteps grow softer as he left, no doubt returning to the war room or library. 

Her trembling hands caused her to drop the pot into the sink and fumble with some of the utensils, but the task gave her something to focus on. While the adrenaline made her a bit more clumsy, it also made her move much more swiftly than she normally would have been able to and soon enough, she was done, everything washed, dried, and put back in order. She found herself gripping the edge of the island staring absently at the things Sam had left out. He would come back soon and she could pay for it and it would be over. The horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach would be gone. 

Unless he decided not to come back, that she'd been too horrible, too disrespectful. Maybe he was telling Dean right now how awful she'd been; the things she'd said. Someone was going to come tell her to leave. 

Or he was going to come in furious at her, give her the whooping she'd earned, and send her to her room. 

Or maybe he was just going to forget about her. She didn't deserve his attention after what she'd done. Alex was the important thing right now. 

Panda touched her forehead to the countertop. She didn't want Sam to see her blubbering if he did come back; he'd think she was trying to get out of her punishment, or was too weak to take it. She clenched her teeth together to keep from making a sound, but she couldn't stop the shaking, the heaving breaths, or the flow of tears. 

Then suddenly, she felt Sam’s hand rest gently on her back. She jumped slightly, but then froze, trying even harder to hide everything she was feeling. She was scared to move, scared to look at him, but then he started to rub soft circles against her skin and she could hear his voice, whispering so close to her ear. “It’s okay, Panda. Let it out. Come on, sweetheart, you can trust me.”

She melted into the counter, her sobs becoming audible but less desperate. It took her a moment, but she had to tell him. “I'm - I'm not scared of the spanking, I promise. I'll do anything, Sam, please.” She peeked at the wicked thing with the dowels, suppressing a shudder. It was mostly true, anyway. 

“Hey,” he said with a bit of surprise. “I know you’re not afraid of your punishment. But something else is bothering you and we gotta deal with that first. Talk to me.”

“I'm sorry. So sorry. I don't know how to fix it. I'm so afraid you're going to hate me and . . . if Dean finds out the disgusting things I said -” she choked and couldn't finish. 

“Hey, look at me.” He guided her up off the counter and carefully turned her around. He pressed a finger beneath her chin to help her focus. “I’m not mad at you. Dean’s not mad at you. We’re all upset about Alex, and our emotions are on high, Dean’s a complete mess, but truth is, if I didn’t think you needed this spanking to fix what’s going on inside your own head and heart, then I wouldn’t be doing it. We all lose control sometimes. And I know you feel guilty for it, I’ll help you make it right, but you gotta believe that the last thing either Dean or I feel for you is hate. Okay?”

She clung to his arms, almost going boneless with relief. She was able to swallow back her tears, unable to doubt the truth in Sam's eyes that he meant every word. “O-okay. But, I - I don't understand how after . . .” She sniffed and shook her head. “Thank you. Just thank you. Did . . . did you find anything yet?”

“Yeah, actually I have. Hunters are a small circle and they talk. I’ve got a few more feelers out but I have good idea what’s going on. You did good.”

Her eyes widened. “I helped?”

“More than helped. Which is why I don’t want you feeling bad about yourself.”

She couldn't help breaking into a watery grin. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Her voice was quiet, fragile. “Thank you for taking care of me, Sam - and Alex, too. We're lucky to have you.”

Sam let out a laugh. “Yeah, well, let’s see how lucky you feel when we’re done with this spanking. You ready?”

She nodded, but she knew he couldn't miss how she didn't want to look anywhere near the row of implements, or her sudden fidgeting. Part of her was relieved, though. So ready to be able to get rid of the nasty feeling in her stomach. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now, this spanking is your choice, and I want you to show me you mean it. You’re gonna go to the head of the kitchen table and pull your pants and underwear down as far as you can without letting go. Understand?”

“Yessir, I - I can do that.” She walked over to the table as directed and with a look behind her to verify that Sam seemed to still be watching her with approval she unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down, keeping ahold of the waistband and making sure her underwear was pushed down as well. When she couldn't go any lower, she waited, her nerves spiking again with the knowledge it was going to hurt, but nothing more. 

“Keep your eyes front please,” he said behind her. 

“Yes, sir.” She focused on the floor in front of her, but then felt a pang of doubt. “Is this okay, Sam - uh, Sir?”

He didn’t answer though, and instead she heard the distinctive sounds of wood sliding against metal and his footsteps crossing the kitchen until she could sense he was right behind her. And then she felt the spoon, settle squarely on her bottom, at the center of her right cheek. His free hand rested against her shoulder blades. “Bend over please, cheek on the table. Keep hold of your jeans but let them fall as far as they can.”

She looked over, skeptical at first if she would be able to do it, but she had to try. She awkwardly leaned forward until her shoulders and face rested on the table. Her jeans slid easily to her knees and she gripped the edge tightly to keep them from dropping. 

“It’s your spanking, Panda, and it’s your choice whether to keep them down or pull them back up,” Sam told her, but Panda knew for certain what he expected. She didn’t have too much time to think on it though because she then felt him press the slotted spoon even more firmly against her skin. “You were cruel in what you said to me. Suggesting that Dean and I punished Alex for ourselves and not for her. Suggesting we didn’t care about helping her. I hope this reminds you that what we do for you girls, it’s always in your hands, not ours.” 

With that, the spoon smacked down against her right cheek, smarting even more as he kept it pressed solidly against her, before raising and swinging it again. She could feel her skin pushing through the small slots, and she knew it was leaving marks. He lifted it again and a third strike came cracking down. 

She couldn't keep the pained noise from escaping her throat. She could feel her legs wanting to shift, her body telling her to tuck her bottom under to try to escape some of the pain, but she'd earned this. She knew it and Sam was right that it was her choice. She consciously planted her feet and arched her back down. She renewed her firm hold on her pants and waited for the next one. 

Sam increased his speed but his precision and strength didn’t falter. He brought the spoon down again and again, until her quiet yelps turned to soft crying. He paddled every inch of her right cheek until he’d left it stinging and throbbing and she wanted to beg him to switch to the other side for even a moment. Just when she thought she couldn’t take another smack, he lifted the spoon from her skin and placed it on the table before her eyes.

She shuddered in relief, even as she knew it would be short lived. “I am sorry for what I said, Sam.” Her voice was a little over a whisper. 

“I know you are, baby girl. You can stand up now. Careful, let your jeans just fall to the ground,” he said as he guided her to standing and turned her toward him, so he could check in with her. “You okay so far?”

She was tongue-tied for a second, equal parts touched and embarrassed. “Yes, sir.”

“Wait right here.” She obeyed, as he turned back to the island to get the next implement and brought it back to her at the table. Uncertain, she tried to keep her eyes directly in front of her and not see what he had, but she was anxious to know. 

He raised the wooden spoon in front of her, the one with the hole in the center. “This is what it feels like, without Alex here, isn’t it?”

She swallowed and nodded. “Yessir. Like something important’s missing.”

“Same as when you walk out on a family meeting. Something, someone, important was missing. Just look at all the information you were able to share, to help your sister. Walking out though, that helped no one, did it?”

She blinked back tears, wanting to protest that it wasn't the same, that Alex was - Alex. But she couldn't deny either Sam's sincerity or his logic, so she just shook her head. “No, sir.”

“I’m gonna keep you close to me for this one.” He put his left foot on one of the kitchen stools. “Over my knee, please.” He helped her up and over and, lifting her shirt, he wrapped his left arm around her waist and held her tight. She braced herself with her hands on the next stool over, but her feet remained hanging in mid-air. She felt helpless, dangling like that - like a child, but part of her was okay with that. Sam's hold on her was solid and she knew she was safe. She had to bite her tongue to keep from asking him if he could spank the other side, give her burning right cheek a break. Sam knew what he was doing though, she would trust him with all of it. 

She didn’t have to wait long. With the slotted spoon he had been slow and methodical, making her feel, remember each strike as if the wood lingered against her backside. It had hurt, but she almost wished for it again as he started to bring this spoon down, rapid-fire and strong, each stinging smack sending a jolt through her. Thankfully he did change to her left side but it took no time at all before the fire matched the one he’d already lit. She couldn't help the whimpers that formed in the back of her throat; one of her hands started to come back, but she clutched the edge of Sam's pant leg, gripping the stool tighter with her other hand. Her legs twitched with the burn of each strike, but there was nothing to brace them against, all she could do was try to keep them as straight as she could, keep forcing them back down. 

“Keep those hands and feet where they belong, Panda,” he ordered as he brought the spoon down extra hard. “That’s what this punishment’s about; being where you need to be.” The spoon landed once more just above her sit-spot. “Facing your responsibilities, and that includes the consequences of your actions.” He picked up the pace again, starting another circuit over her already chastened skin.

“Yes, sir!” It came out as a high pitched whine with the sting of the nasty spoon, but she took every word to heart, locking her knees and renewing her grip with both hands until her knuckles were aching. 

She felt five more painful strokes to the underside of her cheek before he stopped, caressing over her back, the hard wooden handle still in his hand. “Alright, Panda, you can relax now, that part’s done,” he said and he waited for her breathing to slow. In short time, she was able to reduce her crying to slow tears. Her legs were trembling from the effort it had taken to keep them still. She leaned her cheek against Sam's leg and waited for whatever was next. 

“Let’s get you up,” he said gently as he carefully lifted her off his leg and back down to the floor. She experienced a brief moment of concern that she wouldn't be able to stand on her own, but she needn't have; he held onto her until the room stopped spinning and her equilibrium had returned. Her legs were shaking, but he didn’t let her fall. He brushed the hair out of her face and waited for her eyes to focus on his. What she saw, she could only define as pride and love. He offered a small smile. “Hanging in there?”

She flushed, she was actually feeling a little disoriented, but with Sam looking at her like that, it made her want to earn it. She tried to bring her whole attention onto him. “Yes, sir.”

His face turned stern quickly. “Are you sure? I won’t stand for you lying just to please me. Remember this is about what you need, not me.” He didn’t seem angry, just concerned. 

Her eyes widened. “Um, yessir. I - I need to finish this. It was hard, but I know you're taking care of me. I trust you.”

Sam looked pleased. “I’m glad to hear that.” He placed the spoon down on the table next to the first, and turned back to her. “If you’re ready, I want you to go stand next to the table, with your back to the wall. You can lean against it if you still need to.”

He let her go, and as she moved to obey, he went to the island to get the next utensil. The warm skin of her bottom brushed against the wall and she winced at the pressure even while she welcomed the momentary relief the cool concrete provided. Deciding against leaning her full weight on it, she stood with her arms at her sides. 

He walked over to stand in front of her, face and eyes all business once more, and he lifted the flat wooden spatula in front of her. “What was this punishment for?”

She didn't have to think long. Her face went scarlet. “Th-throwing things. Having a tantrum like a child.”

“Right. And what did you throw things with?”

She was confused for a moment, but as the answer came to her she started to get an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. Her voice was very quiet and she struggled to maintain eye contact. “My, my hands?”

He nodded his approval. “Hold them out, please.”

She'd never had her hands punished before - beyond a smack or two for reaching back in the middle of a spanking. She wasn't sure what to expect, but she wanted to obey, wanted Sam to continue to be pleased with her, wanted to prove she was sorry for everything. And she did trust him. She raised both hands, palms up, keeping them together, and tried to ignore the fluttering of her nerves. 

He didn’t smack them immediately, though. He raised his own hand, brushing his palm over her right, before circling her wrist with his thumb and forefinger. Slowly, he turned his palm under, cradling her small hand in his, strong and large, calloused from years of hunting. She let out a relieved exhale, hopeful that he was going to hold her steady; help her take her punishment. Even if he did let go of her physically, she felt confident that he had her. With the tip of the spatula, he traced her hand from palm to fingertips, forcing them flat. 

Then he smacked the implement down hard, her palm immediately growing pink as the sting filled her senses. Her eyes pricked with fresh tears, but she took a deep breath and kept her hand flat, resting in Sam's hold. She kept her gaze on Sam's, waiting. He checked in on her briefly before turning his focus back to her palm, slapping the spatula twice in a row against her tender skin. She sucked in a pained breath as the ache started to deepen into her muscles. 

“What happens when you throw things, Miss Panda?”

She wasn't expecting the question and her confusion was apparent in her voice. “I, um? I don't . . . I'm sorry, Sam, I don't know what you want.”

“Do things break?” He asked as he smacked her hand again.

She gasped and stifled a strangled noise in the back of her throat, but she relaxed when it passed, knowing the answer now. “Yessir! They get damaged or break.”

“Do you risk hurting someone?” The spatula whipped down, this time across her fingers. 

She yelped and pressed her fingers back into Sam's to keep them from curling inwards. Her eyes widened at his question. “Yes, yessir. It's a really stupid and childish thing to do.”

He let go of her right hand and, mirroring his movements from before, took hold of her left. “Let’s try this again. What happens when you throw things, Miss Panda?”

She took a deep breath. “They can break or get damaged, sir.”

“That’s right,” he said before he paddled her palm twice with the spatula. “What else?”

She whimpered softly at the pain, but she was able to answer confidently this time, even as the answer made her cringe with shame. “I risk hurting someone.”

“That is never okay in this family,” he scolded as he struck her palm again. Pink turned to a splotchy red and the sting started to burn, but his words stung more.

“No, no, sir, it's not!”

“Winchesters take care of each other.” He seared two more smacks into her hand before lowering it.

“Yes, S-sam, I'm sorry.” 

“Turn around. Brace those hands against the wall.”

She was caught off guard, but turned to obey as quickly as she could, wincing as she placed her sore palms against the wall. 

She felt the spatula against her bottom for only a second before it struck, right in the center of her backside. He didn’t stop, spanking her soundly, up and down her crease where the last two spoons had for the most part let her be. 

She found herself making high pitched noises from the pain almost immediately, and it was harder than she'd expected to stay in place. She had to lean forward, her weight pressing her hands harder into the wall to keep from dancing with the sting.

“Spread your legs, please,” he asked, though she knew it was an order and not a request. “Hands lower, you can scooch back if you need to.”

Her eyes went wide. “Y-yes, sir.” She shuffled her feet across the floor till they were shoulder width apart, then she brought her hands down lower on the wall, walking back a little, knowing her bottom was fully presented to Sam for punishment. She tried to settle in, planting her feet on the floor and her hands against the wall. She took a deep breath and waited. 

Sam returned to his task, but this time when he traced her crease with the spatula, the blows struck her most sensitive skin between her cheeks. She tried to bite down on her squeals of pain, stay still, but she found herself distracted. He started at the top and with every stroke beneath the last she couldn’t help but worry how low he would go. 

The pain was bad, but the embarrassment was worse. She knew that her hips were twitching and writhing subtly against her will in response to the smacks. It was too much, the thought of Sam seeing that; she wanted to tuck herself under, move her legs closer together to hide - from his gaze more than the awful sting. It was taking everything she had to resist the temptation and she was terrified she was losing that battle. “Saaam, please!” she sobbed, not so much begging for him to stop as she was looking for something to help her get through it. 

She felt his hand immediately on her back, holding her still but grounding her also, giving her something to grasp hold of, even if it was only in her mind. “You can do it, Panda, just one more,” he said before the last mortifying smack of the spatula landed just before it reached between her legs. 

Her fingers scrabbled for purchase on the wall, she was shuddering and crying, relief and humiliation warring inside her.

“Good girl,” Sam praised, grazing his hand over her tender backside before softly massaging her back. “You did beautifully, you can stand up when you’re ready.”

The gentle words helped wash away some of her embarrassment, or at least soothe it. She stood a little shakily - legs together - but remained facing the wall, tears still dripping down her cheeks. She was unsure if she was ready to face him yet. She couldn't avoid making the connection between what she was feeling and what she'd done to earn this. Hurling things around out of anger had been a ridiculous thing to do. She deserved to feel ashamed. It was over now, though, and Sam was still pleased with her. She slowly turned, still looking at the floor, too shy to meet his eyes.

He reached out, gently caressing her cheek. “Do you understand why I did what I did?” he asked. 

She looked at him. “Yes sir. I acted shamefully. Childishly. I'm sorry.”

“I know you are. And you’re doing really well, accepting your punishment. Would you like some water?”

Dizzy with the compliment, she could only nod. 

“Alright, sweetheart. I want you to go stand in the corner for a minute, just to rest, not because you did anything wrong. I’d let you sit, but I’m sure you don’t want to do that.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’ll grab you a glass of water and then I’m going to go check in with Dean and Dad and check my messages, but I promise I’ll be right back. Okay?”

She felt a pang of worry at the realization he was leaving, but it was arrested by his reassurance. She nodded and went to the corner as he'd told her. 

She saw him drop off the spatula beside the two spoons on the table before she turned around, then heard him rummaging, the ice clinking into the bottom of the glass and then the water running. He brought it over, laying a gentle hand on her back and holding it out for her. “You can just leave it on the floor when you’re done, you don’t have to worry about breaking position. Your next spanking is for your disobedience and defiance, so I want you to think about what you could have done differently. And no beating yourself up. You and I will deal with the past together. I want you to think about what you can do better in the future. Understood?”

She looked up at him in awe. He knew and he'd taken care of it. She wasn't scared anymore; she felt confident she could wait now no matter how long he was gone. “Yes, Sam. I - Thank you.”

He kissed her on the forehead, smiling down at her. “I’ll be right back.”

She did as Sam had instructed, thinking of what she could do better if she found herself in similar circumstances. Any time she was tempted to stray into self recrimination territory, she reminded herself of Sam's earnest command that they would be dealing with the past together and brought herself back to what she was supposed to be doing. 

Either Sam truly wasn’t gone long or the time flew by because he was back by her side before she knew it. He picked up the empty glass off the floor and guided her to turn around. “Doing okay?”

She couldn't help but give him a small smile. “Yes, Sam.” She was doing even better now that he was here, but she'd been fine, truly. 

“Good.” He held out his hand to her and she took it, feeling safe and protected despite what she knew was coming next. He brought her over to the table, put the glass down near the wall, then sat on the stool, nearest the head, where the implements all sat. All of them, she realized. He must have moved them before coming to get her. 

He rested his back against the table, then pulled her between his legs looking up at her with interest. “Tell me what you thought about in the corner.”

She took a deep breath, looking Sam in the eyes. “When I got overwhelmed and upset at the meeting I could have asked to be excused; told you what was going on. We were all in the same boat worried about Alex. You would have understood and we could have helped each other instead of me just running off by myself without a word.” She paused, unsure if Sam would have something to say, or if he wanted her to list all her thoughts at once. 

“Do you know what it felt like, you running off? What it feels like when you or the other girls disobey and defy? It feels like a hundred tiny little pin pricks. Just like the ones on that strainer.” He nodded to the black plastic utensil sitting there, waiting for her. 

She felt dizzy for a moment. She didn't know how she had any tears left. Her voice was low when she found it. “I didn't think about how it would affect anyone else. I'm so sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

He nodded in acknowledgment but he didn’t let her off the hook. “Did you think about anything else while you were waiting?”

“Yes, sir. When you tried to stop me, and talk to me, I could have told you how I was feeling. That I was too upset and didn't feel like I could be around people. You would have understood and helped me. Maybe we could have found a better outlet than throwing good kitchenware around. I could have submitted to you instead of trying to get away from you.”

“Panda, it’s not about submission, not with me. It’s about working together as a team. I understand needing to not be around people sometimes and I sure as heck understand feeling like what I’m saying isn’t being heard. But that’s why I need you to know you can talk to me. I get it.”

“Yessir. I, I know that. You always take the time to . . . I should have just talked to you instead of yelling at you and running from you and treating you like crap.” 

“Okay,” he said with a sad smile. “Let’s get this one over with, okay?” He reached over and grabbed the metal handle of the strainer. It looked huge, compared to the others, and she was nervous to know what it felt like, but relieved that she was going to be paying for the next transgression.

“Okay.” She wished her trepidation didn't show so much in her voice. She didn't want Sam to think she didn't feel she deserved this. 

“Turn and face the wall.” 

With his hands around her waist guiding her, she did as he asked, and she felt his knees close in around her legs, clasping them tight. She put her hands down to brace herself against Sam's thigh, the rough denim abrasive against her tender palms.

“Bend over my knee. I want your arms out as far as you can reach and grab hold of the furthest stool you can.”

She did so to the best of her ability. She wished he'd let her hold onto him, she always felt closer to him that way, stronger, but she could feel his strong hold on her and she let it ground her as she gripped the stool in front of her as hard as she could. She felt him adjust them both so her sit spots were the clear target, then his legs clasped tight again. She couldn’t get away from him even if she tried. He had her. 

She felt her adrenaline spike again, but as much as she dreaded the pain, she wanted it, wanted the absolution. And she knew Sam was going to get her through this as he always did. She just had to trust him and let go. He was completely in control, there was nothing she could do anyway, but far from terrifying her, the knowledge gave her peace. 

He lifted her shirt and his hand rested solidly on her back, grounding her even more. So firmly in his grasp, she could feel his arm pull back just before the makeshift paddle slammed right into the middle of her sitspots. She gasped and felt a thin cry escape against her will. It was like a hundred stinging pin pricks. She had to force herself not to squirm in his grasp. Not that it would have done any good, but she wasn't planning to fight him on this.

It came swinging down again, biting against her pulled, taut skin where her ass met her thighs, where they both knew it would hurt the most. He alternated sides; right, left, middle, until her wails had turned to sobs and she was sure her skin was as dotted with red as a Seurat painting. He didn’t stop though, driving home his point down her thighs, as far as he could reach. She’d hurt him. She could tell. And she was almost grateful for the pain in return. She went completely limp in his hold, knowing she deserved whatever he gave her, and lost herself in the blistering sting.

“You can always tell me how you feel,” he said, continuing to spank her. “Disagree with me. Argue even. I don’t expect blind obedience, Panda.” The paddling returned to her bottom, reigniting that blaze. “But I do expect respect.” He landed one more smack back at the center of her sit spot, the hardest yet. Then she heard him put the strainer down. 

She couldn't stop crying, her heart broken at the knowledge of the pain she'd caused him. She just stayed still over his lap, but as soon as she could, she forced out the words. “You, you deserve my respect, Sam. Always. I shouldn't have treated you that way.”

“And I trust that you won’t in the future.” He loosened his grip on her legs, keeping his hand on her back. “You can stand up, slowly, when you’re ready.”

Her crying renewed. She wanted to finish it, but she knew what was left and it had scared her before her bottom felt like one giant blister. She was terrified she wouldn't be able to do it. “S-sam? I - I don't know if I can . . .”

“You don’t know if you can what?” he asked with a gentleness that encouraged her. 

She slowly stood up so she was once more between his knees, leaning against his thigh. She brought her teary gaze to his, searching his face. She didn't want to say it, but he was waiting expectantly. “I really am sorry, and I want to accept my discipline for trying to get away from you, but it's, that . . .” Her voice sank into a whisper. “I'm afraid I won't be able to do it.”

He studied her for a long moment and she almost felt like shrinking beneath his scrutinizing gaze. But there was nothing but genuine care in his eyes. “This is for you, not me, remember? So I need you to be totally honest with me here. Do you want to stop, or do you want to get through this together?”

A wave of calm washed over her. She still didn't want to look at that nasty thing, but she could look at Sam. “I want to get through it, please, Sam.”

He smiled at her. “Brave girl,” he said. “Now, do you trust me?”

The answers on her tongue ranged from laughing at the absurdity of the question, to listing the many reasons he'd given her to trust him, but she left it at an earnest, yes, sir,” and hoped her eyes told him the rest. 

“Good.” He reached over and picked up the dreaded implement and held it in front of her. She tried to avoid looking at it, but he wouldn’t let her. “What is this?” he asked. 

“The instrument of my doom?” she muttered under her breath. 

He couldn’t help but laugh at that but shook his head. “Try again,” he teased. 

She tried to suppress the pleased smile that she'd made him laugh, but she knew he could tell. “A pasta thingy. I don't know it's right name.”

His eyes sparkling, his smile stayed on his lip. “Well, pasta thingy is close enough. And what exactly does this pasta thingy do?”

“Um, it's for cooking the noodles so they don't stick together?”

“Okay, sure. But it’s also for scooping up the pasta when it’s time to serve. And no matter how hard that pasta tries to get away, this spoon is always gonna be able to scoop it up. Just like me with you. Got it?”

Her lip quirked upward at the thought of the pasta having sentience and trying to escape its fate, but then she sobered, her voice hushed like she was admitting a dark secret. “I count on it, Sam.”

“Alright,” he said, pleased. “Let’s finish this then. It’s not gonna be easy, but when we’re done, we’re done. Completely forgiven.” He patted the stool next to him, standing up as he did. “I want you up on this stool, hands and knees, facing the table. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna let you fall.”

She swallowed back another jolt of nerves. “Yes, sir.” She clambered awkwardly onto the stool, relieved to feel his hand reach out to steady her at a few points when she was teetering. Her muscles were all aching and exhausted from holding herself still for Sam and she felt emotionally wrung out as well. She could finish this, though. Sam said he would help her, called her a brave girl. In position at last, she tried to breathe normally and wait for what was coming. 

Sam moved each of the implements he’d used, one by one, to right below her eyes, to where she could see them throughout the spanking. Then he stood beside her, gripping her around the waist, holding her strong and steady. The stool was painful beneath her knees but that wasn’t what she was worried about right now. She cried out, tensing every muscle as the horrid spoon connected with her ass the first, second, third time. She was so caught up in the anticipation, it took her a second to realize that, though it was still lighting a fire, the spanks themselves were light, faint almost. It was merely the fear and pressure reminding her of the lessons she’d already learned. She didn't relax, exactly, it still hurt, but she was able to accept it, let the pain wash away the last traces of her guilt.

He didn’t go easy. He covered every inch of her backside and thighs, every sore spot, every bruise that he’d already painted into her skin, he went over it, stronger where he needed to, lighter where she needed it. Now the pain in her knees was growing and she could feel it, knowing that was as much a part of the punishment for running, maybe even more so, than the spoon itself. Still, none of it was more than she could take. All of it was exactly what she’d needed. Her cries turned into a steady soft sobbing, more of release than anything else. The emotional exhaustion of the week, the fear for Alex, the guilt of everything weighing heavy on her chest was all being wrung out of her.

It took her a moment to recognize that the spanking itself had ended, but she knew it wasn’t over, he was still holding the dowels against her skin. On her right cheek. He let go of her waist, forcing her to balance on her own, and lifted the slotted spoon in front of her. “What was this punishment for?” he asked. 

It took her a few moments to stop crying and clear her head enough to answer him. “S-saying those cruel, mean things. Accusing you of not caring.”

He brushed the dowels across her right cheek, where the spoon had driven home the error of her thinking. Then he laid the dowels atop her left cheek and lifted the spoon with the hole. “What was this punishment for?”

“Running away from the family meeting.” 

He brushed the dowels across her left cheek and the spoon moved to the center. Panda knew what was coming and wasn’t surprised when Sam lifted the spatula. “What was this punishment for?”

“Th-throwing things -” 

It was slow, the slide of the dowels down her crease. She choked on a quiet sob, but the brunt of the burning shame was gone. It was almost over, paid for. 

The spoon rested against the center of her sit spot and he picked up the last implement, the strainer. “What was this punishment for?”

“Um, disobeying, defying you.” 

His press was stronger this time, brushing across each sit-spot, down each thigh. It burned, there was no doubt, but then suddenly he flipped the spoon, and he pressed the cool, flat side against her flaming skin. He wrapped his arm around her waist again and guided her down from the stool and into his arms. “It’s over,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s all over.”

She sank into his embrace bone tired, but content. There was nothing unfinished between them this time to make her feel like she didn't deserve her place here. Her bottom felt like it was on fire, there was a distant tingling in her palms, her knees ached, but none of that detracted from her deep sense of peace. She honestly didn't want it to end. 

“You okay, sweetheart?”

She moved her face to one side and answered, “Yes, Sam.” Her voice cracked a little, but she hoped he could hear that she really was. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” He gave her one more strong, soothing squeeze, then let go. “Now why don’t you get yourself dressed. We got some cleaning up in here to do with those,” he said, nodding to the table. “Then we need to focus all our attention on finding Alex. Deal?”

“Yes, Sam.” She looked skeptically at her pants, then gave Sam a pitiful look. “Could I . . ?”

Sam smirked. “Maybe Alex has the right idea with those skirts and dresses, huh? Put your underwear on. You can have my flannel,” he said, slipping it off his shoulders, “until you can get something softer to put on.”

She slipped her underwear on, trying to hide her wince, and then turned with a grateful smile for Sam. “Thank you, Sam.” She chuckled as she tied the garment around her waist. “It's like I'm wearing a Winchester kilt.” Sam laughed. 

She turned to gather up the utensils, cringing at the touch and walking stiffly on her way to the sink. She threw Sam a look over her shoulder. “Do you think, um, I could work in your room with you? I know you said you weren't mad . . . I just would feel better, if that's okay.” She blushed and busied herself washing the dishes. She didn't want to see his face if he thought it was dumb or was about to say no.

“Panda, I would love your help.” He came up beside her, resting his hip against the counter. He winced a bit seeing her work. “You sure you’re okay? Your hands...I can do that, if it hurts…”

She looked up into his face, hardly able to believe that anyone would care that much. She broke into a smile. “I'm good, Sam. I'll be working lying on my stomach if I can get away with it, but this isn't bad. It helps keep the guilt away-”

“Panda.” His brow creased with worry, and he took the spoon out of her hand. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing, you hear me? I thought we were through this.”

Her forehead grew a matching crease as she tried to think how to explain it to him. “We did. You did, Sam, honest. But then when you say nice things and remind me how much you care and that you always take care of me, and then I think about what I said, or . . . any of it; it just helps to have a reminder that I already was punished for it is all.”

“Okay.” He handed the spoon back. She could tell he didn’t understand exactly. Maybe not how Dean or the girls would. But that was okay too. “Listen,” he said. “The work we’re doing, to figure out Alex’s past. It’s a breach of trust, to some degree. I don’t...I would love your help but I don’t want you getting caught up in that if it’s gonna weigh on you.”

She washed two of the utensils while considering Sam's words carefully. When she turned back, determination had settled any lingering doubt. “We have to find her, Sam. If I can help do that, I want to. If she wants to be mad at me, I'll do whatever I have to to make it up to her, but we have to get her home first, otherwise none of it matters.”

“Agreed,” Sam said. He picked up a towel, drying the dishes and putting them away. “So how about you and I get to work.”


	8. 5 Days ‘til Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello beautiful readers! We love you so much! Thank you for your comments, kudos, and most importantly, your love. Please give Edge love for her contributions too.

* * *

Panda watched the glass fill up with water, rubbing her eyes. It had been a long evening and an even longer day. John and Dean had both headed in different directions, chasing down leads, leaving Sam to hold down the fort. She headed out of the kitchen sipping her water. There had been a few exciting moments, but Alex was still missing and it felt like they were working their tails off and not getting any closer.

Her eyes and stiff muscles were screaming at her that she should have taken a break hours ago. She decided to turn down the other hall toward their bedrooms to see what her sisters were up to. 

There was some odd rustling and hushed conversation coming from Edge's room. Sounded like she and Tosca were both in there. As Panda got closer, she could hear them more clearly. 

“I’m not letting you do this alone!” Panda recognized the voice as Tosca’s.

“It’s not safe for you,” Edge’s voice answered.

“It’s not safe for _you_ to go out there on your _own!”_ Tosca replied stubbornly.

Panda peered around the corner, taking in the scene from what she could see through the partially opened door. Edge and Tosca stood by the bed with an open duffle on the end and supplies heaped around it. 

Panda got a sinking feeling in her stomach. "Um, guys?" she asked, a bit timidly. She pushed the door open a little wider. "What's going on?"

Tosca startled, looking over at Panda with a shocked expression. Then her face reddened and she looked to Edge for help, unsure of what to say.

Edge seemed as startled, but then composed herself. “I’m heading out,” she said. “To help look for Alex.”

Panda's eyes widened, her voice was a horrified whisper. "But, Edge! You can't! You heard what John said . . ." She gulped at the memory, unable to say the word. 

Edge shook her head. “They’re taking too long, how much ground can they cover, just the two of them? If I manage to find Alex, it’ll be well worth a switching.”

“And I’m not gonna let Edge go out there and look all by her lonesome.” Tosca added. “Hunting is safer with a partner, that’s what the guys have told us before.” 

Panda's mouth opened and closed. "What are you gonna do when Sam finds out? He won't let you go, you've gotta know that."

“He’s not gonna find out,” Edge replied. “I’ll be out of the bunker in ten minutes.” She bent over to zip up the duffle with a determined yank. 

“Let me grab my coat and a couple things out of my room and I’ll meet you in the garage.” Tosca said to Edge.

“I already told you you’re not coming.” 

Tosca glared at Edge. “I’m not letting you go alone, Edge! I want to help, too! I need to help look for her!”

“And if there’s a vamp holding her captive, what’re you gonna do? You can’t swing a machete worth a damn!”

"What are either of you gonna do!?" Panda interjected shrilly. "Anyways, I can't lie to Sam, of course he's gonna find out!" Her hands were clenched in trembling fists at the thought of Alex being attacked by vampires; at the thought of her sisters going up against said vamps on their own. 

Edge stepped up to her and put a hand on her arm. “We’re not asking you to lie,” she said gently. “I’ll never do that. But if he doesn’t run into you anytime during the next ten minutes or so, you wouldn’t have to, would you?”

"But . . . But you're putting yourself in danger, you're not supposed to go on your own for a reason, please don't, I . . ." Her bottom was still a little sore from the paddling he'd given her the day before, but more than that, she didn't want to see the disappointment in his eyes when he discovered she'd kept this from him. "I think I'd have to tell him, Edge." Her voice was little more than a whisper. "Just - please."

Edge nodded and squeezed her arm. “Of course you have to. It’s okay, Panda.“ She let go and turned to lift the duffle. “I’ll be gone by then, anyway. _I_ ,” she glowered at Tosca. “Not _us_.”

Tosca stepped in front of Edge. “Edge, I _have_ to go with you!” She insisted. “Look, I’ll drive, okay?” 

“You’re just wasting time, Sam could come around any minute and catch us. You _want_ to get your ass switched?!”

“Is that what _you_ want?” Tosca challenged. “We’re supposed to have each other’s backs, and that means hunting with a partner!” 

“Yeah, hunting with a partner who can actually _have_ your back,” Edge slung the duffle over her shoulder. 

Tosca crossed her arms, chin jutting out defiantly. _“Fine,_ then I’ll go on my _own!_ I’ll take that beat-up car that Sam drives sometimes!”

Edge shook her head. “You’re not a hunter, Tosca, why do you want to do this? You can be more useful in here, doing research. Why risk your neck? Or your ass, for that matter.”

Tosca deflated suddenly, her defiance gone, and tears filled her eyes. “Look, I _have_ to go.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “You don’t know--Dean said--I really messed up with the elf and the paddle, I--I made things worse for Alex. She’s been so on edge lately, that probably helped push her over, so I’m partly the reason she left. I _have_ to help find her, I have to--to make it up to Alex.” She wiped a tear that had escaped out of the corner of her eye, and squared her shoulders. “So like I said, I’ll just go by myself.” 

Edge watched her, biting her lip. “Fuck,” she mumbled, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She closed her eyes for a minute, sighed, and looked at Tosca. “Fine. But you don’t get brave, and if there’s any danger, you stay back. Or I’ll be dragging your ass right back here. Got it?”

Tosca’s face brightened. “Yes ma’am!” 

“How much time do you need to get ready?”

“I just need a couple minutes to throw some clothes in a bag and I’ll be ready to go.”

Edge glanced at her watch. “Jesus. Fine, move it already.”

Tosca gave Edge a guilty grin and hurried out of the room. “Meet you in the garage!” She said over her shoulder. 

Panda stumbled backward out of her sister's way and made her way down the hall. She locked herself in the bathroom, slumping down with her back against the door and tried to figure out what to do. 

* * *

  
Sam rapped his knuckles on the back of the bathroom door. “Hey, Panda. I found something, but we need to head out to the registry real quick. Hurry up and I’ll meet you out at the car.”

He hitched his backpack over his shoulder, checked his pocket to make sure he had his phone, and headed out to the garage. He opened the door, heading over to the key rack, when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. 

“Dean?” he called, confused. “Dad?” He walked over to the cars to find Edge and Tosca, frozen at the sound of his voice, caught throwing their backpacks into the open trunk of a vintage Volvo. His hands flew to his hips. “What the hell’s going on?”

Tosca straightened up quickly and turned to face him, glancing at Edge. “Uh--” Her face reddened. 

He raised a brow and turned to Edge. “You got something better than that?”

She stared at him for a moment, mouth gaping a little, and then closed it, straightening her spine and pulling her shoulders back. “Yeah, I got something better. We’re going to look for Alex.”

Sam’s gaze shifted between them. He couldn’t believe this. He needed to be working to try and find her, not dealing with this. “Were you not at the same family meeting I was? Did you not hear my dad’s orders?”

“I was. But we’ve been doing nothing since then. I mean, go over _all_ of her entries in the hunting database? Really? _That’s_ what’s going to tell you where she might be?”

Tosca straightened to mirror Edge’s posture, lifting her chin defiantly. “Yeah, wouldn’t it be better if there were more people out there looking for her? Instead of us sitting around here twiddling our thumbs?”

“You mean sitting here in the bunker, safe, where Dean and Dad and I don’t need to be worrying about you girls too?” He shook his head, his anger rising. “Enough. Inside. Now. I want you both in the library. Find a corner, and stand in it.”

“But-” Edge started.

Tosca crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s not fair! We’ve got a right to help look for Alex! If more of us are out there we can cover more ground!”

“You’ve got a right to get your backsides back inside the bunker where they belong,” he said, and he grabbed each of them by the arm, giving them a sharp smack to help them on their way. 

“Yessir,” came the double response. Both girls turned and hurried inside, Tosca right behind Edge. 

Sam turned to follow, his adrenaline pumping through his veins as his frustration grew. First Panda, now this. If they cared that much about finding Alex, why couldn’t they just behave and let them do what they needed to to find her. Help her. 

But he didn’t get far. Panda stood, face pale and expressionless, directly inside the door. She kept her blank eyes pinned to Sam's, her voice was flat, like she was reciting something from memory. “I knew what they were planning to do. I should have told you, but I hid it from you, instead. I was wrong. I know I deserve to be punished, too, sir.”

The room spun. Sam closed his eyes for just a second, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath. “Alright, Panda. Get inside with your sisters,” he said with a sigh. 

She turned and went without a word. 

He took a moment to text Dean and John, let them know what was going on, beg them not to make him follow through, or at least wait until they got back. It was no use though, they were both adamant it happen now and that he do it. So, grabbing a switchblade from the small supply in the garage, he went to the library to deal with the girls. 

Tosca stood facing a corner in one of the reading nooks near the tables in the center of the room. Edge stood at the corner opposite of her, looking like she was barely holding herself from glancing behind her back. Panda was in the corner closest to the library door, her forehead leaning against the wall and her arms folded behind her back.

He stood in the doorway, just watching them a moment, gearing himself up for what he needed to do. “Edge,” he said, turning his voice stern. “What were John’s orders?” 

“Uh… to stay put until we figure it out. But, can I just say, this was my idea, sir. So can you just let Tosca and Panda go?”

“No, Edge, I cannot just let them go. They knew the order as well as you did.” He paused for just a moment. “Tosca, what was the penalty for disobeying the order?”

Tosca glanced back over her shoulder briefly. Her voice shook as she spoke. “John said if any of us set foot outside the bunker--that he’d, uh, he’d take a-- a switch to us. To our asses. Sir.” She cleared her throat. “But we weren’t outside of the bunker, we were technically in the garage...sir.”

“Getting caught, Tosca, does not change your intention. And it doesn’t get either one of us out of doing what has to be done. Does it? You and Edge both made your choice. And now we all have to deal with it.”

“Tosca and Panda shouldn’t pay for it,” Edge was still staring at the bookshelf. “Panda wasn’t even going anywhere near the damned garage, and Tosca only followed my lead.”

“Unless Tosca has suddenly lost her ability to tell right from wrong, Edge, she’ll pay the consequences for trying to leave, same as you.”

Tosca’s voice was adamant. “But Sam, if I have the _intention_ to eat a gallon of ice cream, and I _don’t_ do it, that’s different than if I actually follow _through_ with my intention…”

Sam snapped at Tosca, done with her backtalk. “And if you’d stopped yourself from trying to leave the bunker with Edge instead of packing the car, you wouldn’t be standing here waiting for a switching.” He turned to Panda. “Panda, front and center,” he ordered moving toward the armchairs, standing shoulders back, arms crossed. 

She froze a moment, then turned and walked to him, hands folded in front, now; her face still impassive. As she stopped in front of him, she dragged her eyes to his. 

He stared sternly down at her. “You knew about their plan, you knew what my dad had said, and yet you said nothing. Why?”

She gripped her hands tighter, but Sam could tell they were trembling slightly. “I wanted -” she broke herself off. “I was scared of being responsible for getting them switched. I couldn't make myself do it.”

His eyes softened slightly. “You know what I would have done, Panda, if you’d told me before they could leave? I’d have talked to them. About what they were feeling. Planning. And about why we were saying they couldn’t go. And maybe I would have warmed their butts over my knee just as a lingering reminder, but they most likely wouldn’t be standing here now, waiting for me to make good on Dad’s promises. And I wouldn’t be having to do it.”

She looked at him disbelievingly. Then her eyes teared and a short sob escaped her lips. She ducked her head and dashed the moisture from her eyes. Then she met his face again. “I'm sorry. I know I screwed up. I deserve the same punishment.”

He studied her a moment before reaching out, brushing a tear off her cheek. “You should have told me. And you didn’t. So now, we’re in this together.” He lowered his hand. “But I’m not gonna switch you. Instead, you are going to go outside, and you are going to cut their switches, and you are going to sit here and watch me give your sisters the punishment you chose not to try to protect them from.”

He could see her try to regain her stoic mask, but his order wasn't anything she had been expecting. She was actively shaking now, her face was even more pale, her breaths coming in heaving gasps. “Please. I can't-” she whispered. 

He understood her pain. Felt it himself, deep in his gut. “Come here,” he said and he guided her to stand in front of him as he sat down in the chair.

“Please, Sam. You have to whip me too.”

“No, Panda. I don’t.” He tried to be gentle with her, slowly rubbing his hands up and down her arms. She flinched at his touch. “Panda, listen to me. Can you answer some questions for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he said. “Now, I need you to tell me the truth. Did your sisters ask you to go with them?”

“No, nosir.”

“Did you offer to go with them?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you ask them not to go? Remind them of the order?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Then explain to me why you deserve to be whipped.”

She gave him a look like she was trying to figure out if he was joking. “It's my fault. I let you down, again, sir. I let them down. If you hadn't caught them, they could be in danger of something worse than a . . . a switching. If . . . If I'm cutting a switch I know is going to be used on me . . . I think I could make myself do it, sir.”

“Panda. You’re responsible for your choices, and I promise that you and I will take care of those. But you have to trust me to give you what you need. I’m not…” His voice faltered, but he tried not to let her hear it. “I’m not going to switch you when you don’t deserve it, and there was only one order given that would make you deserve it. You didn’t disobey that order.”

Her shaking stilled some. Her voice was flat again, if a little hoarse. “What do I do? I don't know how.”

He pulled out the switchblade he’d grabbed on his way in from his back pocket and handed it to her. “Cut four branches from the birch trees right outside, about the width of your finger. Bring them inside, to the war room, then trim off all the twigs and whittle it down to make it as smooth as possible. Just do your best, I’ll fix anything that needs fixing. Okay?”

She gripped the knife in her hand, her voice barely audible. “Yes, sir.”

She turned and left the room. 

Sam waited until he heard the clank of the bunker door before standing up and folding his arms. “Do either of you have anything to say for yourselves now?”

Edge shifted a bit. “We just wanted to _do_ something.”

“This isn’t _fair!”_ Tosca said sulkily. “We didn’t actually _disobey_ the actual _order,_ so we shouldn’t get the actual _punishment!”_

In a flash, Sam was standing behind Tosca, towering over her, his left hand bracing against the wall, high above her head. His warm breath wafted down her neck as he stared down at her. He had to hold back the shaking in his voice. “Your sister was standing there, practically begging for the switching that _you_ earned, and you have the gall to try to argue your way out of it?”

He smacked his hand against the right cheek of her backside, hard enough to sting through her jeans. 

Tosca stumbled forward a bit with the force of the blow and had to put her hands up against the walls to keep herself upright. “B--but Saamm…” she whimpered, glancing up at him, letting the fear she felt show in her eyes. 

“How could you have done that to her?” he asked, voice low against her ear. “Ask her to lie for you?”

She started when she felt the heat of his breath graze her ear. “I--we-- we weren’t--we didn’t ask her to lie, technically!” She protested. 

“Making her keep secrets for you.” He wasn’t going to let her get caught up in semantics. This time his hand came down on the left, matching the burn.

“Ow!” Tosca exclaimed. “We didn’t _make_ her do anything!” Her voice was stubborn.

“Cause her to worry about you? You know how sensitive Panda is.”

The spanking started for real now, his hand covering her backside from top to bottom, concentrating especially hard on her sit spots. 

“I--” Tosca’s protest died in her throat as the onslaught from Sam’s huge paw continued. She braced her hands against the wall, lowering her head and closing her eyes against the tears that brimmed in them. A couple of whimpers escaped from her throat as his hand fell on her rear end. She shifted from side to side as if moving her hips would get them out of the line of fire, but it didn’t really matter, Sam’s hand was large enough to cover a good portion of her rear with each swat. 

The spanking seemed to go on forever, then stopped as suddenly as it started. “Turn around,” Sam ordered. 

Tosca slowly turned, swiping one hand across her cheek to wipe away the tears that had fallen. She lowered her gaze to Sam’s feet. 

“Look at me.” His voice was hard. 

She raised her head and met his eyes with trepidation. 

“Do you think I _want_ to switch you?”

Tosca audibly gulped. “Um...no?” She said hesitantly.

“No. I don’t. What I _want_ is to be figuring out how best to help Alex when she gets home, because Dad and Dean _will_ get her home. And what I want is your help, Edge’s help, in doing that. And what I definitely want is your obedience and respect and for you to accept the punishment you earned without the attitude and argument.”

Tosca’s eyes filled with tears and she blinked rapidly to clear them. “I want to help Alex too.” She said in a hoarse whisper. “We wanted to feel like we were _doing_ something.”

“You were told how you could help. You were told what to do. You didn’t listen then and you aren’t listening now.” Tosca’s lip began to tremble. He knew that the one thing she hated the most was feeling like she’d disappointed them, but he had to get through to her. He went to sit down in the armchair, his legs making space for her. “Come here.”

She walked over to him, obviously dragging her feet, and stood in the V of his legs, looking down again.

“Pants down, Tosca. To your knees. Show me you can follow directions. Accept what you have coming.” 

Tosca unsnapped and unzipped her jeans with shaking hands, pushing them down to mid-thigh.

Sam didn’t know how much more of her outright defiance he could take. “Now the underwear comes down too, Tosca. I was going to let you keep them on, but maybe you can pull _those_ down where they belong.”

Tosca blushed, slipping her fingers into the waistband of her panties and sliding them down over her rear. She pushed everything down to her knees and then folded her arms behind her back, keeping her gaze on the floor.

“Over my knee,” he ordered. 

She took a deep breath and lowered herself down across his thighs. Her feet came off the floor and she dangled there, feeling like a small child waiting for punishment. She put one hand on Sam’s shin to steady herself.

He reached over to open the punishment drawer, pulling out a small round paddle. He placed the cool, dark wood against her, circling her warmed skin. “I want to be clear, little girl. This punishment is not for disobeying John’s orders or for what you asked of your sister. This is solely for your disrespect towards me. Your disobedience of me. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes, sir.” Tosca’s voice shook. “I’m sorry Sam!” she blurted out suddenly. 

“I hope you are,” he said sincerely. “I know you will be.”

Without another word, Sam started spanking, smacking the paddle down rapid fire, lighting a fast fire to her sit-spots. 

Tosca gasped at the first swat and began to cry immediately.

He held her tight around the waist, hoping he didn’t need to restrain her, that she would hold position on her own as he brought the paddle down; three smacks on the left side, three on the right, and back again. As her sensitive crease blossomed from pink to red, he concentrated on keeping his anger, his frustration out of it, focusing only on what she needed. Delivering the message he needed her to learn. 

Tosca wrapped one arm around Sam’s lower leg and grabbed the lower rung of the chair with her other hand, her chest hitching with quiet sobs. 

“Your disrespect is completely unacceptable,” Sam lectured as he moved the paddle lower, swatting her right thigh until he’d painted it pink, making sure it stung. 

“I’m sorry! Please!” She pleaded, kicking her left foot up.

“Position, Tosca,” he ordered, snapping the paddle down on her left thigh. “Don’t make me hold you down. Show me you can do this.”

She made a small whimpering noise as she lowered her foot and clamped her legs together as if to prevent them from moving.

He continued the punishing blows to her thigh, matching the color, matching the sting. When he was certain that she would keep her position, he moved the paddle to her backside, smacking her lower cheeks, alternating sides until they glowed.

“Saa-aam!” she wailed. “Pleeeease, I’m s-sorry!” 

“Show me,” Sam told her as he brought the paddle down hard. “Show me you’re sorry. Show me you can accept your punishment.”

“I--I d-do! I--I amm! H-how do you w-want me to sh-show you?” She cried out. 

He stopped, smoothing the paddle gently over her skin. His hand stayed tight around her waist. 

She shuddered as the hard, flat surface of the paddle rubbed her scorching flesh. 

“Tell me what you did wrong,” he said. 

“I--I’m sorry!” she whined. 

He smacked down the paddle, nearing full strength, right in the center of her bottom. He could see her skin color immediately. 

She shrieked and began to cry aloud. “Okay, okay!” Her voice was panicked. “I--I was rude--to you, I a-argued w-with you and sa--sassed you.”

He spanked her again, not quite as hard. “What else?” 

She cried out again as the paddle connected with her punished flesh. “We--I-- made plans-- to--to go and look for Alex on our own--we were d-disobeying orders.”

He snapped the paddle against her bottom once more. “And what do you deserve for that disobedience?”

She whimpered audibly. “To...to be p-punished.” Her voice was quiet. 

His was too when he laid the paddle down against her skin, fighting off his own exhaustion. “Punished how, Tosca?” He could almost hear the desperation in his own voice. “Just admit it so we can move on. Please.”

She whimpered again. “To b-be--whipped with a switch.” Her voice died to a whisper, and she sobbed again, going limp.

“Good girl,” he said, breathing his own sigh of relief. He set the paddle down atop the table, loud enough for her to hear, then gently rubbed her back until her cries slowed. 

She loosened her grip on Sam’s leg as she calmed down. 

When he felt she’d be able to stay steady, he gently tapped her hip. “Alright, sweetheart. Come on up. You can slip out of your pants and underwear and then back in the corner.”

She stood up, reaching out to hold onto his shoulder for balance as she shakily stepped out of her clothing. She folded her pants up with the panties still in them and placed them on a nearby table. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her flannel as she walked back to take her place in the corner

“Good girl,” he told her again, softly cupping the back of her head for just a moment. He looked over at Edge. She was keeping quiet and still, although her shoulders were shaking slightly. He walked over, leaning back against the bookcase beside her so he could see her. His voice was quiet, for her alone, and it demanded the truth. “Are you okay?”

She raised a hand to wipe the tears that were running down her face. “No, sir.”

He brushed a soft hand through her hair and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Look at me,” he said, voice gentle. 

She did as she was told, but not without an obvious struggle.

“I’m sure that wasn’t easy to listen to. And waiting for your punishment is hard, I know. So tell me, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

Her eyes wandered away from his. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t supposed to… we were gonna go out, find Alex. Get her back. All of you were supposed to be proud of us, and we were supposed to have a great Christmas together.” She glanced up at him for a second before dropping her gaze. “I ruined it, didn’t I? And I dragged everybody down with me.”

“Edge.” His voice grew hard, stern. “Whatever good intentions you had, and I know they were good, the fact is you disobeyed orders that were very specifically and very clearly laid out. And you and Tosca, and Panda to whatever extent necessary, will be punished for that. And then, together, we will all find Alex, bring her home, help her with why she left in the first place,” he said pointedly, “and have a Christmas that everyone can celebrate together. So you didn’t ruin anything. But there are things to pay for first. Understand?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.” She wasn’t lying, he could tell; he asked if she understood, and she did. Yet Sam wasn’t certain if she actually _believed_ everything he had just said. She resumed staring forward, back straight and face blank.

He felt bad leaving her, but he knew Panda was in a worse state and needed him. 

“I’m going to go check on your sister, I want you girls to stay right where you are, understood?”

“Yes sir.” Tosca said quietly.

“Yes, sir,” Edge echoed.

Satisfied they’d be okay, he made his way out to the war room. He’d heard Panda come back in halfway through Tosca’s spanking and he didn’t want to leave her alone another second. He found her sitting on the floor with her back against the wall holding the knife in one hand and a switch in the other. She wasn't doing much with them, but it might have been because between her hands shaking so badly and the tears blurring her vision, it would have been hazardous for her to try. When she saw him, she jumped. “I have one done. I'm trying.”

He sat down in front of her, legs crossed and, as gently as he could, took the knife and branch from her hands. He looked down, starting to whittle it himself. 

“Sam, _please-_ ” She grasped the ones on the ground in front of her, as if she was going to keep him from taking them. 

“It’s never easy,” he said, keeping his voice as calm, almost conversational, as possible. “Cutting a switch. For yourself or someone else. Actually, it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.” He looked up at her, his face brimming with sympathy. His voice had calmed her, if only a little, and she looked just the slightest bit curious despite herself.

“Wha-? Who?” she managed. 

“There was this one time Dean had snuck out, Dad came home early. I lied through my teeth trying to protect him. When Dean got home, realized what I’d done, he tried to get me out of it, he’d been the one to-”. Sam nearly shuddered, looked back down at the switch in his hand. Panda hugged her knees, looking miserable. “Anyway, let’s just say I know how this feels.” He’d made quick work of the switch and set it down beside them. Then he held out both hands. “Do you want me to do it or do you want to? It’s okay either way.”

“Nnn-nooooo,” she moaned softly, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the wall. “I don't.”

He put the knife aside and scooted in next to her, opening his arms to her. “Come here, sweetheart. Tell me what’s got you this worked up.”

Her eyes popped open and she looked at him for a moment. “Please don't call me that; don't -” she hugged her knees tighter and hunched her shoulders. “I did this. This is my stupid fault. I can't manage to act right for twenty-four freaking hours.” She clamped her mouth shut along with her eyes. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” he said. “Up. Now. Hands on the table.”

She opened her eyes, looking him in the face for a second. He saw resignation, some of the closed off, blank expression from before, coupled with relief. “Yes, sir.” She stood, then looked at the bundle of switches in her hands like she wasn't sure how they got there or what she was supposed to do with them.

“Leave them,” he said. 

She looked back at him, a hint of resistance there; her hands tightened for a moment, but she put the switches on the floor and walked to the table. Leaning over, she put her hands on it as ordered.

With her back turned, he squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. He felt lost, out of control. _What would Dean do?_ he asked himself. _What would Dad do?_ Well, he knew the answer to that. But he wasn’t Dean and he certainly wasn’t his father. 

He went around the table, stood across from her, placed his hands on it, same as her, and studied her face. There were slow tears running down her cheeks, she was staring fixedly at her hands on the table in front of her, but she snuck a quick worried look at Sam.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he ordered as soon as she’d met his gaze. She froze and her worry became more pronounced. His heart beat wildly in his chest. She was like a frightened animal, two seconds from running, except he knew that Panda never would. She’d die before she willingly disappointed him one more time. “Is anyone allowed to hurt my little sisters?” he asked her. 

She relaxed marginally, but still looked wary. “No, sir.”

“Is anyone allowed to call my little sisters names?”

Her face showed brief confusion, surprise. She thought for a long moment. “N-no, sir?”

He tilted his head, brow furrowing. “Is that a question? Do you think there are times when it’s okay for someone to call my little sisters names? To call them stupid?”

“No, it wasn't a question, I -” she studied him a second. “I just didn't understand. Sorry, sir. It's never okay.”

“Do you think it’s ever okay for someone else to blame my sisters for things they didn’t do? Mistakes they didn’t make?”

Frustration rippled through her features. She snapped her jaw shut and her eyes left his.

“Don’t you dare, young lady,” he commanded, his voice booming. “You will look at me and you will answer the question as I asked it. Do you ever think it’s okay-”

Her eyes snapped back to his and she broke in, her voice shaking. “ _No_ ! it's _not_ , but it _is_ okay for them to blame themselves for what they _did_ . For the screw ups they _did_ make. Why are you doing this? Is this part of my punishment!??” Her eyes showed fear at her outburst, but mostly they were pleading with him. 

“Do you not trust me?” he suddenly asked. He hadn’t meant to. The words had just come pouring out as if on the ocean of tears of frustration that were bubbling just inside him. 

Her face crumpled and she started sobbing like her heart was breaking. She attempted to talk through her heaving breaths. “No . . . I didn't. I kn-know I should have. I tried, I tried, Sam, I'm - I don't know why you're being nice to me when I couldn't even trust you with my sisters when I was supposed to.” She lowered her forehead to the table, still keeping her palms on it as she'd been told, and continued to cry. “And I can't - can't even take mm-my punishment right.”

He dropped his head, squeezing his eyes shut, clenching his fists against defeat. “And what would that look like, Panda?” He inhaled and exhaled slowly, then raised his eyes to her. “Tell me what that would look like. Taking your punishment right.”

She was quiet for a moment beyond a few heaving breaths. “I - I don't know . . . Like Alex, or Edge, or . . . Not whining; making you feel sorry for me when I know I deserve it. Not being such a baby? I d-dunno, S-Sam. I just -” She raised her head slowly, sniffling. “I said I was sorry, yesterday. I cried and told you I trusted you, and then I just turned around and - And you must think I was lying, that it was just an act. That I'm just trying to manipulate you and lessen my punishment or something. And it's not and I don't know how to prove it to you, and I don't know how to earn being part of the family again.” She couldn't meet his eyes, just stood, slow tears dripping onto the table, her breath coming in small hitches. 

“Panda, being a part of this family isn’t something that goes away just because you do something wrong. If it was, Dean and I, we would have been out years ago. I promise there’s nothing you can do that beats what we’ve done to each other.” He came around to her side, leaning back on the table next to her. 

Her sob sounded full of relief. “I _know_ you're not gonna hurt them, Sam. I mean, I know you're gonna take care of them, better than I could. I know I should have trusted you and told you what was happening. Should've done a better job looking out for them. I'm sorry.”

Sam sighed. There was too much, too much going on in her mind, too many things she was conflating with another. He didn’t know how to break it apart for her. But he could start with the one thing they both needed before he could deal with anything else. “You should have trusted me then. You need to trust me now. Tell me how I earn that.”

“I do trust you with me, Sam. It's just harder with them. I don't know why. I - I do. I will.” She rubbed her eyes on her arm. “Every time I screw up I'm sure you won't forgive me this time; sure I found your limit. You didn't do that . . . other people did; you're just left helping me clean up the mess. It's getting better, honest, every time you take me back when I don't think I deserve it. Please don't give up on me. I'm trying. I - I can do it. I can accept your punishment. It wasn't what I expected. It's so much harder, but I understand it. I'll do it.” Her lip trembled, but she looked him in the eye. 

“I’d never give up on you, Panda. You’re my sister, I can’t.” He gave a small shrug and a strangled laugh. “I know...you didn’t want it before, but…can I please hug you? It’s okay if you’re not ready, I could just...I could really use one.”

Another short sob escaped her and she nodded. “Please-” she whispered.

Sam took her in his arms, holding her close, squeezing her maybe too tight, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to feel her in his arms, know that she was okay, that they were okay. He needed to believe that she really could trust him to take care of her, take care of her sisters, and that maybe they could get past this

She in turn slipped her hands under his flannel, stretching her arms as far around as they would go and clinging to him. He could feel her silent sobs of relief, feel her tears soaking into his shirt. He gently carded his fingers through her hair. Sniffing, she tilted her head up. “Thank you, Sam.” 

She wiped her eyes on his flannel and laid her head down on his chest. Her voice was soft and slightly husky from crying. “Thank you for taking care of me. I know you'll do the same for my sisters. I'm sorry we made you have to do this.”

“You didn’t make me do anything, Panda.”

She sighed, “Yes, sir.” He could hear an almost humorous lilt in her tone, though. 

He pulled back, looking at her seriously. “Speaking of taking care of you and your sisters,” he raised a knowing brow, “we have a few things to take care of. And you have a few more things we need to...discuss...about your behavior than we did before. But I want to do what you need. So are there things that you and I need to handle before we go in there? Or can you wait until your punishment for lying to me about Tosca and Edge is through?”

He could feel her squirm uncomfortably, although she seemed unaware she'd done it. She appeared to be giving his words careful consideration. “No, sir. I just want to trust you; do it your way. That's, that's all I need.” 

“Okay,” he breathed. “Can you finish up the switches for me so I can get back to Edge? Or do you need me to help you?”

“No, sir - I mean, yes, sir. I can do it.”

“That’s my good girl,” he said, kissing her head and before she could say anything he leaned down to meet her eyes. “You _are_ a good girl, Panda. Doing something wrong doesn’t change that. It doesn’t change what’s in here,” he said and he put his hand over her heart. 

Her eyes widened as she stared into his. Her lip trembled. “Yes, sir.”

“Okay. When you’re done with the switches I want you to bring them into the library, set them down on the table and then take a seat in one of the armchairs. I know watching your sisters be punished isn’t going to be easy. But that’s why it’s punishment for you too, understood?”

She cleared her throat and took a breath. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright.” He left her with one last kiss to her head and steeled himself for round three. 

He rounded the corner of the library, finding the girls right where he’d left them. Tosca was standing with her head bowed and shoulders slumped, facing the corner. Every once in a while she would bring a hand up to wipe one side of her face or the other. Edge was holding the same pose as before, although her hand, the same as Tosca, rose a time or two to wipe across her face. 

Sam walked up behind Edge like he had with Tosca, leaning over her. Her body tensed, straining to stay put.

“Explain to me how you justified to yourself going against the orders of John Winchester,” he demanded. 

Her posture seemed to become almost military at the mere mentioning of the grand patriarch. “I wanted to be more useful in finding Alex, sir. Splitting up to search for her would’ve covered more ground. There’s enough people researching in here as it is.”

“And do you think your judgement in assigning tasks is better than his? Or Dean’s, or mine?”

There was a slight hesitation before she replied, “No, sir. But…” another slight pause and the words rushed out, “It was fucking _frustrating_ . I didn’t feel like I was _doing_ anything.”

“Then why didn’t you come talk to me. Tell me how you were feeling. Sit with me and Panda while we researched? Instead, you roped one of your sisters into disobeying with you, and you put another into such distress I wasn’t sure I could get her out.” He could feel his heart rate rising. 

She shifted her weight from one leg to another, feet shuffling on the floor. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it to go down like this,” her voice was a near-whisper. “I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. I didn’t mean to get them in trouble.”

He tried to be very clear. “Their trouble is their own, Edge, their decisions were theirs to make. But your actions have consequences. And one huge consequence was putting Panda in the position where she had to either betray your trust or betray mine. And that wasn’t fair of you. And it’s not okay with me at all.”

Her hand rose to her face again, accompanied by an audible sniffle. “I’m sorry.” She turned her head a little, not enough to actually look over her shoulder. “Is Panda okay?”

He was heartened by her concern. “She will be. And when we’re all done here I think you owe her an apology.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hands on the bookshelves,” he ordered. 

She took a deep breath, then raised her hands to lie flat against the bookshelves and leaned a little forward.

Sam took his position behind her and brought his hand down on the seat of her cargo pants with a loud thud. Edge winced, but didn’t move otherwise. He brought his hand down again, then again, working it in a circle all over her butt with sharp, crisp swats, making her body rock lightly with the force of the whacks. 

Edge kept quiet, mostly. By the time he had started a third circle, she was exhaling through her teeth whenever his hand landed. He stopped and moved a step back. 

“Bend a little further,” he said. He stepped away as she did, his long strides taking him quickly across the room to grab the paddle he’d left out. Walking back, he watched Edge slide her feet back so she could lean lower against the bookshelves, waiting for her to find balance. Then he laid the paddle against her backside. 

“Tell me about Tosca. Did she offer to go with you? Did you ask her to go?”

“I talked her into it. It was my idea, my planning.”

Tosca spoke up from her corner, her voice strident. “You-- you didn’t talk me into it, I _wanted_ to go!” 

Edge turned her head. “Shut the hell up, Tosca!”

The paddle came down on the center of her sit spots harder and faster than she could have ever imagined, and she barely bit down on a yelp. “You do _not_ talk to your sister like that, young lady, do I make myself clear?”

She took a breath before replying, “Y-yes, sir. But she’s lying, sir. It wasn’t her fault.”

Tosca’s voice was louder this time. “I am _NOT_ lying! I--I wanted to go, to see if-- to help find Alex, because--I feel guilty.” She ended with a dry sob. 

“Quiet,” Sam snapped. “Both of you.” 

Edge ducked her head a bit. Tosca was silent. With another sigh, Sam took the moment to let go of the tension building in his muscles. He turned, just in time to see Panda, eyes brimming with tears but not letting them fall, appear in the doorway. She had in her hand four perfectly stripped switches.

“Thank you, Panda ,” he said gently. “You can place them on the table.”

She did so, then started to turn toward the chair, but stopped herself. “Sam?” Her voice was little more than a plaintive whisper. 

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“Um,” she looked embarrassed, uncertain. “Is it okay . . . N-nevermind, sorry.”

“Panda.” His voice had just the slightest tinge of scolding. “Ask me your question.”

“Um, can you -?” she gestured at him, asking him to come closer. She looked like she regretted speaking up. He placed the paddle down on the bookshelf and went to Panda. 

She looked up into his face and gathered her courage. Her face turned pink as she spoke. "Is it okay if I cry some because it's a punishment, and sometimes you cry during a punishment, and it doesn't mean I don't trust you?"

Every bone in his body wanted to just take her in his arms, hold her tight and never let go. So he did. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I won’t judge your tears if you don’t judge mine. Deal?”

She breathed a sigh of relief and clung to him for a moment. “Deal,” she whispered back.

He cupped her head and gave her one last squeeze. “Go take a seat. I just need to finish up with Edge in the corner before we start.” 

He let her go and turned back. “Pants down, Edge,” he called as he strode back. 

Edge straightened up, undid her cargo pants and pushed them down. She turned her head a little to watch Sam return to her vicinity.

He picked up the paddle, twirling it his hand. “Eyes front. Back in position.”

She returned her gaze and her hands back to the bookshelves in front of her.

“Now,” he said, shifting back to the argument between the girls. He was pretty sure he was gonna end the whole thing with whiplash. “Edge. Regardless of whose idea it was, the fact remains that you are a trained hunter, and you were willing to take your sister out on what could have been dangerous. I wouldn’t let Dean get away with that, and I won’t allow it from you either.”

He placed a hand on her lower back, holding her in place as he brought the paddle down strong on her left sit spot. 

Edge gasped sharply, flinching with the whack. He continued, snapping it down across her skin, over and over on the same spot until he’d colored it pink, before moving to the next. He focused on the crease between her thighs and bottom, just above, and then down across her thighs. 

Her breathing became more labored and she moved her hands over the shelves, looking for the edges to grab onto. The swats were making her body sway lightly, although she had tried to bring herself back into position after each one.

After what seemed like forever, after he was sure a hardy sting had set in, he stopped, setting the paddle down. 

He took a deep breath. He couldn’t put this off any longer. “Alright, Edge. Pants and underwear off. You can leave them here, and then I want you at the library table. Pull a chair out of the way, and take your position for your switching.”

She needed another minute before she could push herself away from the bookshelves, and then stifled a groan when bending down to remove her clothes. She stepped out of them, turned, and stared at Panda, seated in an armchair with her legs pulled up and her arms wrapped around them. Her hands were gripping her arms tightly and her eyes were glistening and red-rimmed. She met Edge's gaze somberly. 

Sam could see Edge’s expression practically melting at the sight of her sister. He stood quiet, letting the girls take care of what they needed to. “I’m sorry,” Edge said, quietly. “I didn’t mean to get you involved. I’d never do anything to hurt you. I’m really sorry, Panda.”

Panda's eyes went wide with shock for a moment. She shook her head, slightly. “I - I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough, I could have stopped this from happening. I'm okay, Edge, I don't blame you for my choices.”

Edge nodded. “I figured you wouldn’t blame me, but you should. I’m still sorry. And you should get to watch the person who sucked you into this get punished for it,” she gestured at the switches lying on the table. Then she looked over at Sam, back at Panda, and made her way to the table. She moved a chair to make room and bent forward until she was leaning on her forearms.

“Legs further apart, Edge,” Sam told her. She shifted to follow the order.

Slowly, almost ceremonially, Sam chose one of the switches from the table, sliding it beneath Edge’s gaze, before picking it up and whipping it through the air. He could see Edge and Panda both flinch at the dreaded whistle. 

“You’re getting six, Edge. And before each one, you’re going to give me one reason that you shouldn’t have tried to go out on your own to try to find Alex. You can begin when you’re ready.”

Her breathing had picked up, rustling through slightly-parted lips. She moved them as if not able to utter words, closed her eyes and took a slow breath, then opened them and tried again. “John gave us an order to stay inside the bunker, sir.”

He sliced the switch through the air, cutting it across the center of her backside. It took only a second for a thin line to blossom on her skin, and she stifled her voice mid-cry.

Edge inhaled a few times before speaking up, “I could have put Tosca in danger by setting out with her, sir.” She brought a hand up close to her mouth.

The switch lashed down again, biting sharp just above the first strike. She crammed her wrist into her mouth in time, smothering the shriek. Tosca let out an audible whimper when she heard Edge’s cry, and her shoulders began to shake.

Edge let go of her wrist in order to give Sam the next reason. “I didn't have the right gear and resources for the search, I wasn’t equipped, sir.”

He glanced at Panda, checking in before he raised the switch again. Her face was pale and one trembling arm was pressed against her mouth, keeping her eyes on the scene in front of her as she'd been ordered. 

His heart clenched. For her. For himself. For Edge. But he kept on task, carefully aiming, tapping the switch against her skin, before whipping it down, just above the last stroke.

Her cry was more pronounced now, even though she again had her mouth held against her wrist. “Fuck,” she breathed out as she tried to correct her position and compose herself. She sniffled and pulled her shoulders back away from her ears.

“I didn't have enough info to direct the search, sir.”

He lined the switch up, just below the first line, now obviously welting. He pulled back and whipped it down. 

She needed both hands this time, rising to her mouth with the wrists crossed right over it. One foot stomped some on the floor before coming to rest, and her back arched as her shoulders, so carefully pulled back before, hunched up again.

Sam rested his hand on her back, caressing up to her shoulders, lightly helping her back into position. 

There was a soft choking sob from Panda. Her voice was shaking, but she managed to make herself heard. “Two, only two more, Edge.”

Edge took a shuddery breath and braced herself in position. “It’s fine, Panda,” she managed. “I’m fine.” Another breath. “I didn't have backup, sir.”

He removed the touch of his hand, replacing it with the tap of the switch. And then he lashed it down, a fifth stripe rising quickly beneath the last. 

Edge’s cry of pain came through teeth clenched over her sleeve. “Fuck,” she gasped, body trembling, breath coming fast and shallow. She seemed to try and curl in on herself over the table, then, with agonized effort, pulled up back into position.

“I didn't l-let anybody know w-where I was going, it wasn't s-safe, sir.”

Nearly letting out a sigh of relief, he whipped the switch down one last time. Edge’s body cringed, her head dropped down onto her arms as she let out a stifled wail. She stayed there, shaking, face hidden from sight.

Sam broke the switch over his knee, tossing it down to the floor. He reached out to her, brushing her sweat and tear soaked hair from her face. “It’s all done, Edge. You’re all done, paid in full. You did great, made me very proud.” He kept his hand lightly stroking her temple as she recovered. “You can get up when you’re ready.”

She remained where she was for a few moments more, then slowly, painfully, braced herself back up on her forearms, returning to the position she’d started with. She reached a hand to wipe her face, then settled.

“You can start with the next one, sir,” she said with a voice that was low and wavering, but held a note of determination.

“No, Edge.” Sam had anticipated this. He knew his sisters well enough by now. “I told you you’re done, paid in full, and I meant it.”

“ _I_ may be paid in full, but Tosca isn’t; she shouldn’t have owed anything to begin with, but you think she does. So let’s get this fucking over with.”

Tosca turned slightly and spoke over her shoulder. Tears were evident on her face. _“No_ , Edge! You shouldn’t--” 

“No,” Sam said at the same time as Tosca, his voice firm. What Edge was asking was out of the question. “Tosca made her own choices. Her own decisions. And she’s gonna take her switching for it, pay her debt, and make me proud just like you did. Don’t take that away from her.”

Edge turned her head to look up at him; a few tears were still running down her cheeks. She studied his face for a moment, then shifted her arms to rest her palms flat on the table and push herself up.

Sam laid a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, his hand caressing down her arm. He gently guided her to turn around. He pressed a knuckle to her cheek, brushing away a tear. “I know getting up was harder for you than taking more.”

She gave a tiny, almost invisible nod, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Come here,” he whispered, opening his arms, wrapping her up in his embrace. He kissed her head, brushing his fingers through her hair. “What a strong, amazing girl you are, Edge. I am _so_ proud of you.”

She buried her face into his chest, low whimpers wrecking through her body. Her fingers grabbed at his shirt as she leaned into him. “I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry, S-sam.”

“I know you are, Edge.” He kept holding her tight, speaking low, just for her. “And do you know how proud Dean and Dad are going to be when they hear how you were able to recognize all the things you can do better next time you plan a hunt? They’re gonna be so proud of how much you learned from this mistake.”

She shook her head against him. “Do you h-have to t-tell them? They’ll be so d-disappointed.”

“Oh Edge. They already know what happened. What they want to know, what matters to all of us, is that you learned from it. Everyone makes mistakes. Dean could probably rattle you off a list longer than a crossroads contract,” he teased. Then he spoke as earnestly as he could. “They won’t be disappointed that you wanted to help your sister. They’d only be disappointed if you came out of this not understanding why there were better choices.”

Edge’s response was more quiet sobs, muffled by Sam’s flannel. 

“It’s okay.” He squeezed her tight, rocking her slighting. “It’s alright, just let it out, I’m here with you. You’re okay.”

Edge’s knees seemed to almost give way underneath her, and she held on to Sam for dear life, weeping even harder, as if all that had happened in the last hour had finally caught up with her. 

With one hand he put the wooden chair back and with the other he led her to the armchair where he sat, gathering her once again in his arms, whispering reassurances into her ear as long as she needed. 

When she finally calmed down, she still stayed where she was in Sam’s arms, breath hitching a little, and turned her head to rest her cheek against his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“That’s my girl,” he said, wiping the remainder of her tears from her face. “Are you okay?”

She shrugged lightly and made an attempt at a crooked smile. “Better, I guess. I’ll be fine, Sam, don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll always worry,” he told her. Then his face grew serious. “Now, I think we both know, despite what Tosca says, that going after Alex was your idea. So like the leader you are, you’re gonna watch her punishment. Understood?”

She sniffled one last time, straightened her back and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“I’m not gonna make you sit, but you can stand right behind this armchair,” he said, patting the back of the chair as he got up. “Protect your dignity a little bit, but I expect you’ll keep your attention where it belongs.”

She had to use him for balance when getting back to her feet. She took position behind the armchair, took a breath and held her head high. “I’m done disappointing you, sir,” she said, her eyes steadily meeting his.

“I know you are.” As Edge situated herself behind the armchair, Sam turned, kneeling down to Panda and wiping away her tears. “You’re doing very well. I know this is probably the hardest possible thing I could have asked of you, harder than any spanking I could have given you.”

She sniffed, her eyes pinned to his, looking exhausted, but strengthened by his care and his words. She held out one of her hands, asking for his. He gave it gladly and she squeezed it just as he did.

“Thank you, sir. I know -” her voice sank to a whisper. “I know it's hard for you too. I'd like to think next time I'll be sure of what to do, no matter how hard it is to tell.”

He kissed her forehead, her care, her understanding, meaning the world to him. “I’m sure next time you’ll do the right thing.” He gave her hand one last squeeze then stood, turning. “Tosca,” he called. He repeated the instructions he’d given Edge. “I want you at the library table. Pull a chair out of the way, and take your position for your switching.”

Tosca turned out of the corner and slowly walked over to the table. Her face was red and wet with tears. She pulled a chair out and moved it over to the side. Then she looked up at Sam. “D-do you w-want me-- bent over the table?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Yes,” he told her. “However is comfortable for you, but legs slightly spread.”

Tosca wiped her face with her palms and took a deep breath, then she turned towards the table and lowered her torso down onto it. She rested her forearms on the wood and lowered her head down onto them. Then she stepped slightly to the side with her right foot so that there was space between her ankles. 

Sam took one deep breath then went to the table, sliding his chosen switch from the pile, whistling it sharply through the air. Tosca’s shoulders tensed at the sound. He tapped the inside of Tosca’s calf with it. “A little further apart,” he ordered. 

She flinched when she felt the switch on her leg, and moved her foot further to the right, spreading her legs more. 

“Do you know why I was so hard on you earlier? About keeping position? Following directions? Accepting what you have coming?”

“Uh--be--because my sass and attitude w-was out of line, sir.” Tosca’s voice was hushed. 

“Yes, because of that. But also because I don’t want to accidentally hurt you, I mean _really_ hurt you here, because you’re jumping out of position or trying to fight me.” His voice nearly shook but he fought to keep himself under control. She needed him to be in control. “I need you to stay strong for me here for six strokes. Can you do that for me?”

“I understand. Yes, I c-can do-- that.” Tosca’s voice trailed off as she began to cry silently. Panda could be heard sniffling in response. 

“Alright,” he said. “Same rules as Edge. Six reasons you should not have tried to go out looking for Alex on your own. You can begin when you’re ready.”

“Umm, do they have to be different reasons or...what h--happens if I repeat one that’s already been said?” Tosca asked in a small voice.

“Just be honest, Tosca, that’s what matters. But Edge’s reasons were her reasons. I imagine yours would be different.”

She nodded her head, and then took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “We disobeyed an order given by John, to stay in the bunker.” 

He laid down the first stripe across her backside, sharp and stinging, he knew from experience. 

Tosca let out a shriek and burst into tears, arching her back up and almost pushing up off the table. She caught herself and forced herself back down onto the flat surface, babbling, “I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry!” She gripped her hands together tightly and rested her forehead on them. Sam gave her time, forcing back his own tears. She took a couple of deep breaths before she spoke again. “We--all this, having to deal with us is a--a distraction, you could be using this time to look for Alex and I’m sorryyyy!” 

He aimed the switch and swung it down, delivering her second punishing stroke. He could feel the tension in his face, his jaw clenched tight. And he waited for her cry. 

Tosca bit her lips to muffle the shriek that erupted when the switch fell again, but it didn’t work very well. Her shoulders were hunched up around her ears now as she fought against the instinct to escape the pain. 

“I,I, sh-should’ve stopped her, I sh-should’ve t-tried to convince her not to g-go,” Tosca blubbered, moving her hands below her chin and resting her head on the table.

He didn’t waste time he just wanted to get this done. The third lash came flying, striking just above the second. 

She bit her hand as the switch lashed her skin, a strangled cry escaping from her mouth. She panted for a moment, trying to catch her breath. “We--we didn’t do any p-planning, we were just gon--gonna go, which is d-dangerous.”

The switch whipped down, as if he was on auto-pilot, cutting a fourth stripe beneath the first. He could see the welts blossoming on her skin, he knew tomorrow there would be bruising and tears welled in his eyes. He wiped them away with his forearm, as if it were sweat on his brow. _Two more_ , Panda had said earlier. Two more and they were done. 

By the sound of Panda's suppressed sobbing, she wouldn't have had the ability to call out the number this time, even assuming she was aware of it. 

Tosca shrieked again and her whole body jerked with the effort of staying in position. “Wee--we, we didn’t t-tell anyone what we were d-doing, if s-something had ha-happened, no-one would know--and I’msorrySaaaaamm!” She wailed.

The fifth stroke came hard, fueled by her words. They didn’t know what had happened to Alex, they didn’t know if she was okay, and if he hadn’t caught Tosca and Edge, they could have lost all three. 

Tosca screamed at the stinging lash, and her legs went limp for a moment. She sobbed, barely able to catch her breath as she tried to speak. “All--all of th-that-- not telling, p-planning on s-sneaking out, is, is like lying--and--and now you won’t trust us!” 

He delivered the sixth and final stroke across the others. He was sure he barely grazed her, but he was also certain it didn’t matter. Tosca wailed at the stroke. He didn’t bother to even snap the wretched branch, he just threw to the ground and went to her, cradling her as best he could. “Shhhh...you’re all done, baby, you did so well, I’m so proud of you.” He tried to hide the tears in his voice, but he wasn’t sure he was. He kept talking as her crying slowed. “And of course I trust you, how could I not after what you just did. You listened and obeyed and you proved that I could trust you completely.” 

Tosca turned her head towards him and clutched at his arm. “No, no, you shouldn’t trust me. I should have gone to you and told you what Edge was planning, but--but I wanted to look for Alex, she’s been so upset and I made it worse when I did the prank with the elf!” 

“Oh, Tosca. Come here.” His heart broke for her. Had she really been carrying that burden, that guilt, for so long? 

Tosca pushed up onto her forearms and turned her head, looking up at Sam, and then stood up, reaching for him. 

Sam gathered her in his arms, holding her close, kissing her softly on her head. “Shhh…” he soothed, brushing his hand through her hair. “It’s not your fault, Tosca, it’s not your fault.”

Tosca had wrapped her arms around Sam when he hugged her, and she clutched at the back of his flannel. “But it is, it’s got to be partly my fault-- she’s been so tense and upset about the holiday, and everything that happened probably made her feel worse...and what I did hurt her, Dean said so, and so that pushed her one step closer to running…” 

“Tosca, listen to me.” He held her back slightly so she could meet his gaze. “Something deep inside Alex is hurting. We don’t know why and, yes, she was upset by the elf and the tree.” _And Dad_ , he thought, though he didn’t say it aloud. “But she ran because of that pain inside her, not because of anything that you, or Dean, or John, or I did.”

“I tried to apologize, I brought her ice cream and stuff, but she didn’t--I don’t think she wanted to accept it. And then she seemed to get angry when she heard that Dean and Edge had gone out and that started her on a whole other upset--”

“Tosca,” he stopped her before she could go too far. “Beating ourselves up about it is not going to help get her home or help her once she is home. All we can do is be there for her, like you tried to be. The rest is up to her.”

Tosca nodded, sniffling. “You’re right. I just-- I keep going over and over it in my head and feeling bad about it. I need to stop doing that.”

“Yes, you do,” he said with a soft smile. “It’s okay to be sad and frustrated. It’s even okay to be angry at her. But it’s not okay to blame yourself.” He looked at Tosca and Edge and Panda each, one slow, meaningful glance at each of them. “And that’s something we need to talk about. Get your clothes on and then come right back.”

The girls obeyed, coming right back to their places. Sam led Tosca by the hand to the armchairs where Panda was sitting, and sat in the empty one Edge stood behind. He guided Tosca in front of him and shifted so he could address all three of them at once. 

Panda looked up, obediently giving Sam her attention. She was still wiping stray tears and breathing in tired little hitches. Edge’s hands were resting on the back of the armchair, the leather creasing under the grip of her fingers.

Tosca looked at each of her sisters and then at Sam, a wary expression on her face. “What did you want to talk to us about, Sam?”

Sam tried to keep his expression soft. “All three of you tried to take the blame for each other, and that’s not okay. I understand it, believe me, I do.” He and Dean had sure tried often enough as kids to save each other’s asses. It’s one of the lessons they never really learned too well. “But you do not control your sisters’ minds. You are not responsible for their decisions. You are not responsible for their choices. And you don’t do them or yourself any favors when you try to take their punishment for them. They just feel more guilty, and you’ve taken a lickin’ that you don’t deserve. Do you understand?”

“I understand what you’re saying, sir,” Edge said. “With all due respect, I disagree about taking a licking we don’t deserve. We deserve extra if we get somebody else in trouble. It’s only fair, sir.”

Sam sighed with complete frustration. She was as stubborn as Dean. “That is true, and you got your extra lickin’ for Panda, if that’s what you mean. But if you’re talking about Tosca, then that is exactly my point, Edge. You did _not_ get Tosca in trouble, she is a grown adult who made her own choices and unless you physically forced her to go with you or you’re saying that she is not competent to make her own choices,” he added with a sharp glare, nearly daring her to put her sister down like that, “then I suggest you admit that in this case you did not get your sister in trouble.”

There was that look again, like she comprehended his words perfectly, but didn’t believe him. He half-expected her to argue further, but all she said was, “Yes, sir.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You and I will have a further discussion about this, young lady, is that understood?”

Edge blinked, her cool facade faltering for a second, and then she regained control. “Yes, sir. Understood, sir.”

Tosca shifted uncomfortably. “But you can’t fault us for wanting to cover for each other...wanting to help each other out.” 

“I don’t fault you for wanting to, Tosca. I understand that, believe me,” Sam said. “But I will fault you for doing the wrong thing. And, probably worse, Dad won’t hesitate to if it happens again.”

Panda spoke up, shyly, “I think . . . we're supposed to trust Sam - and Dean and John, too - to be fair and give each of us what we need. If we try to take somebody else's punishment, they don't get what they need . . ?” She looked to Sam for confirmation. 

A proud smile spread across his face. “That’s absolutely right, Panda. My good girl.” He looked up at Tosca and Edge. “You all are. My good little sisters.”

Tosca gave Sam a tiny smile. “Thanks, Sam.” she said softly.

Panda looked overwhelmed at the praise, she smiled too.

Edge wasn’t smiling, not exactly, but her expression seemed to smoothen and relax. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Alright, girls. Edge, Tosca, how about you two go to your rooms. Put something comfy on and then you can continue with that research. Lying on your stomach on your beds of course.”

“Yes, Sam.” Tosca said obediently.

“Ss-sam?” Panda looked like she wanted to get up, but was uncertain.

He reached out and touched her hand. “You and I still have some things to finish up, don’t we?” he said pointedly. 

She blushed. “I wasn't sure . . . I was just wondering if I could . . . If they want to, am I allowed to hug them before they go?”

“Hugs are always allowed,” Sam assured her. 

She looked hesitantly at her sisters fresh tears forming and threatening to fall. "Um," she found herself unable to look straight at them for a moment, but she gathered her courage as best she could. "I'm so sorry, guys."

Tosca walked over to Panda. “I’m sorry too.” She said quietly. “Are you okay?” 

She looked overwhelmed and she opened her arms hopefully. 

“Of course!” Tosca stepped towards Panda and hugged her tightly. 

"I'm gonna be, I think," Panda murmured. "I didn't like that at all, and it's hard to believe you're not mad at me."

Tosca pulled back to look at Panda’s face. “Why would I be mad at you?” She frowned in confusion. 

"It was all . . ." she shot a guiltily look at Sam. "I mean, I coulda put a stop to it, but I wasn't brave enough to do what I knew was the right thing."

Tosca shook her head. “We shouldn’t have put you in that position, and I’m sorry.” 

Panda tried for a watery smile. "I'll forgive you if you forgive me, deal?"

Tosca smiled back at her. “Deal- forgiven!” She pulled Panda in for another hug.

Panda shuddered with leftover sobs as she held Tosca closer. When they let go, though, her smile was stronger. 

Tosca’s smile mirrored Panda’s as she let her go.

Panda turned and looked over at Edge through teary lashes.

Edge shifted a little, hands clutching the back of the armchair. "I know I already said I'm sorry, but I am. I can't take everything that happened back, I wish I could. I never meant for any of you to get hurt in any way."

Panda took several steps closer to her, but stopped short, uncertain. "It's okay, Edge, I mean, you're forgiven if that's what you need to hear, but as far as I'm concerned there is nothing to forgive. You're - you're the one who got switched. I just need to know . . . know we're okay." The last words came out in a shy almost-whisper.

Edge blinked, trying to push the tears back, but one slid down her face and she wiped at it and snuffled. "I did need to hear that, and I too need to know we're okay." She snuffled again, voice starting to break. "You can't feel any of it is your fault, Panda. You _can't_ . It's _wasn't_."

Panda didn't hesitate now, she rushed over and wrapped her arms around her sister as best she could, trying to soothe her with reassuring words. "Okay. Okay, I won't, Edge. You are really-truly forgiven. We're okay."

Edge hugged her, fiercely, burying her face into Panda’s hair. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Panda held onto her tightly, but after a moment worked one hand free and waved Tosca over. "Tosca forgives you too, I'd bet."

Edge lifted her head slightly to slant a glance at Tosca. “Do you?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Edge. I decided to go with you of my own accord, and I knew what the consequences could be.” Tosca shifted. “But if it makes you feel better to hear it, yes, I forgive you, and as far as I’m concerned we’re all okay.” She gave Edge a hopeful smile.

Panda gave her a mocking exasperated look. "Get over here, silly. We need you."

Tosca’s smile changed to relieved as she stepped over to her sisters to be welcomed into their embrace. Edge wrapped one arm around her and leaned to plant a kiss on her cheek. “It’s okay for me too, now. Thank you, Tosca.”

Tosca leaned her head on Edge’s for a moment and squeezed the other girl’s arms. Then she let go of Edge’s arm and turned away from the circle, towards Sam. She caught his eye and beckoned him. “You too, Sam! Join us!”

Panda smiled over at him, her expression seconding Tosca’s request. 

Sam rolled his eyes, but in truth he was just glad none of them were mad at him. He closed the distance and wrapped all three of them up in his arms, giving them each a kiss on the head. “Alright, Ladies. Now that everyone’s forgiven, how ‘bout you two follow my orders and head back to your rooms.”

Tosca and Edge left and Panda stood watching them go. She started fidgeting slightly, then turned to Sam looking slightly awkward. She tried a small smile. “Is it okay to still be a little nervous when we have something to _discuss_? Even though I trust you.”

“I see you're not still clamoring for a piece of that switch,” he said, his eyes twinkling with just a touch of amusement.

She shuddered, but her smile didn't falter. “No, sir. I . . . I was having some difficulty taking in the lesson without going back to taking blame that I wasn't supposed to. But one thing I definitely learned is that a switching is not something I _want_ ever.”

“Good,” he said, holding out a hand to her. She took it and willingly allowed herself to be guided back into the chair. She gripped his hand like a lifeline and he held hers like one as well. He looked into her eyes as she looked up searchingly into his face. “Because trust me when I say, it’s not a punishment that gets lost in the sea of all the other punishments. It stands out. I don’t know why, but it does it. And I was not going to let you suffer it just for trying to protect your sisters.”

“It’s not that I wanted it, Sam, or that I wasn't terrified. It just seemed like the only way I would be able to live with - everything. The only way to prove how sorry I was and maybe have a chance you or the girls would ever forgive me.”

Sam nodded. “And now?”

She took a deep breath. “I'm trying to be okay with myself. You forgave me. The girls did, too. Edge was trying to get me off the hook completely, so I know she wasn't mad that I didn't get whipped with them. I'm sure the girls would have something else to say, but I don't see how an actual switching could be more painful than having to watch . . .” She broke off and winced, peering knowingly up at him. “Sam . . . Are you - are _you_ okay?”

His instinct was to tell her he was fine. He was the authority here, the disciplinarian, he needed to look strong, to be strong, for her. But he supposed he’d lost that facade with her before he’d even begun. “Yes,” he said quietly. “And no. I do what I have to do for you girls, give you what you need. I don’t like it, but I understand. A switching though. Like I said, it’s different. And I never…” His eyes watered and he let out sharp breath. “I’ll never do it again.”

She listened quietly, her eyes glistening. “Can I give you another hug?”

He nodded quickly, wiping his eyes. “I’d like that,” he said. 

She sprang from the chair and wrapped her arms around him, just holding him for a moment. Then she raised her chin so he could hear her. “Sam, if you liked it, I could never trust you. You always give us what we need and today was no different. I'm sorry - I promise I'm not taking blame, I'm just really sorry you're hurting. I love you, Sam. The other girls love you. We're gonna be okay because of you.”

Sam honestly had no idea what to say, caught off guard by her her words. “I love you, too, sweetheart. And we’re all gonna be okay because of each other. Because we’re family. We can get through anything together.”

She smiled at him. “Yes, sir.” She released him and turned to sit, but she stopped short. “Thank you for being honest with me, Sam. I could tell and I'd be more worried if you’d've tried to brush it off.” She took his hand again and sat back in the chair. 

He shook his head with a smile, that feeling of whiplash returning. “God, Panda, you don’t make it easy for a guy to finish up with what we need to finish up.”

She smirked and pantomimed locking her lips shut and throwing away the key, resting her free hand in her lap and looking at him expectantly.

Sam tried to get his head back in the game, get back on task. This was too important not to. “Look, Panda, the things you said out there. Calling yourself stupid? Saying you can’t do anything right? Lying about yourself, to yourself, isn’t any more okay than lying to me.”

She sobered immediately, looking down for a second - thinking, not hiding from him. She looked back up, her voice was subdued. “I can see that, but, Sam, I'm not trying to lie. They're all the time. I'm working all the time to try to shut them up.” She flinched and waited for his reaction like she'd just spoken a horrible secret. 

It wasn’t a secret though, not to him. “I know you are. And we’re gonna do something about that.” Her hand tightened on his and her eyes widened slightly, but she settled and kept looking trustingly into his face. He watched every move. “But, lucky for you...” He ran an exhausted hand over his face. “I am completely spanked out. So here’s what we’re gonna do. You and I are going to go to the registry before it closes so I can get that info I need about Alex. And then we’re gonna stop at a bookstore. You’re going to pick out a journal, and every night, you’re going to write in that journal; all the good things you did that day, the smart things, the things you did right. And every morning, you and I are gonna look at it and talk about it, until I can trust you to do it on your own.”

She blushed and her expression varied as he spoke, switching between surprise, embarrassment, and adoration. She cleared her throat. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He slapped his hand down on his thigh with satisfaction. “Is there anything else we need to talk about or can we put all this behind us?”

She looked at him for a second. “Is it okay if I maybe need to hear it again, later?”

“Anytime you need it, I’m happy to tell you again. Every morning as we read your journal for sure.”

Her smile was full of relief. “Then I'm absolutely ready to be done. And I think you deserve a frozen custard or something while we're out.”

“Yum,” he grinned. “I’ll agree to that. Let me just check on your sisters. You get ready and I’ll meet you in the garage. Preferably with no interruptions this time.”

“Yes, Sam.” She rushed to follow instructions, but stopped and came back to give him a swift hug. 

“I love you,” he said, hugging her back then gave her a playful swat on her bottom. “Now, git.” He watched her run off and took a moment of silence to relax, running his fingers through his hair and sighing. He thought Dean was a hard sibling to wrangle. But these girls were gonna give them all a run for their money. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. 4 Days ‘til Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys were a bit quiet last chapter and we missed you! We hope everything’s okay and everyone is weathering the storms of the real world. We hope this takes your minds off things for a bit. Your love and comments and kudos always help make our days much brighter

* * *

  
This had been all John Winchester’s fault. And if Alex was being honest with herself, she had known from day one that this would be how it ended. But she hadn’t been. She’d gotten lost; in Sam’s warm smile, in Dean’s wounded eyes. In the promises they’d given her that they would protect her from the one thing that no one had protected them from growing up. 

And she’d fallen for it. Fallen for them, each in their own way, grasping hold of her heart, giving her no chance but to trust them. Love them. 

She didn’t deserve to be punished for trying to keep them safe. Trying to keep herself safe. She hadn’t wanted to leave them. John had just given her no other choice. 

Just like before. 

But despite all her head told her, she couldn’t get her feet to cross that border outside Lebanon. Not tonight, she thought as she settled down with her Chinese take-out. 

Maybe tomorrow. 

* * *

John had parked in the next cul de sac over so there were two fenced-in yards between him and the house where he hoped to find her. He didn't want to risk her recognizing his truck and bolting. His heart pounded in his ears as he searched the windows looking for any sign. It wasn't the same as the fear that coursed through him when he was up against some creature that could tear him limb from limb. He reveled in the adrenaline at those times, it was where he thrived. 

This fear was different; there was very little like it. It came close when there were hostages, innocent civilians involved, but this? The fear that he was going to lose someone that belonged to him? Every time he thought he was broken and couldn't feel that attachment any more - after Mary - this fear would remind him he still had so much to lose. He wouldn't, though; not today. He saw something in a ground floor window. It wasn't much, a flash of dark hair, but it was enough for him. 

He cut through the side yards keeping low. Silently picking the back door was child's play and he was in, entering a bare kitchen. There was very little noise, but enough to tell him she was in the next room. He crouched down and risked a quick peek. 

His fear didn't leave completely at the sight of her, unharmed, sitting cross legged on a sleeping bag eating from a box of takeout, but there was a rush of relief that washed a lot of it away, leaving behind something more manageable. She was facing mostly away from him and didn't appear to be armed, but he couldn't rule out her having something on her. He didn't think she'd purposely try to harm him, but a startled runaway was capable of anything. 

He mapped out his next move, chose a moment she was distracted by her next bite, and stealthily crossed the space between them until he was half a step behind her. He just stood for a beat waiting for her to sense him. 

“Son of a bitch!” she cried, dropping her chopsticks as she scrambled up and into the corner of the room. She held her breath for just a moment, her eyes blinking quickly as she tried to focus in the darkness until she finally realized who it was. There appeared to be a brief second of relief, before she retreated even further, seeming to try to disappear through the wall. “John.” Her voice was hushed, full of apprehension. 

He kept his tone conversational, “Out of curiosity, do you have any kind of weapon on you? I was just wondering what you would have done if it had been someone else.”

“No...no, I just…” She stopped herself, obviously trying to regroup.

He tried to contain his frustrated snort. Self defense lessons would have to wait for another time, but if she was going to go running off every time she had a problem, he at least needed to make sure she could take care of herself until they could track her down. 

He returned to the matter at hand. “Get your stuff together. You got about one minute.”

Determination returned to her eyes and she took a step out from the protection of the wall. “No.”

He let a little of his anger show from beneath the veneer of calm control. “Alex, I have no patience for any nonsense. I am taking you home. You can grab your stuff and walk to the truck on your own, or leave it behind when I drag you outta here. Those are your only choices.”

“I said, no! You’re not dragging me anywhere, I didn’t come here just to be dragged back. When I go back, _if_ I go back,” she emphasized, “is _my_ decision, not yours.”

“Oh, you think so?” He lunged for her, catching her arm in one hand and pulling her back as she tried to slip past him. 

Alex raised a fist. “Get your hands off of me!”

He dodged the first punch and grabbed her other hand when she swung again, transferring it so he was holding both her wrists in one hand. “Are you gonna walk, or am I carrying you?”

“Fuck you,” she seethed as she tried to free herself from his grasp.

He was having a hard time not responding in kind to her fury. His adrenaline had been expecting a fight and here it was. That wouldn't be helpful here, though. He adjusted his grip on her wrists and ducked down to grab her behind her knee with his free arm swinging her over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. 

“Don’t you fucking dare, John Winchester.” Alex immediately started kicking. “Let me go! I’m an adult, not a child and I am most certainly not _your_ child. You have no right!”

The kicking made it harder to walk, but she was thankfully not very heavy and he made out the back door. He tried not to let her words sting. He told himself she didn't mean them. She was angry and trying to get a rise out of him. He couldn't quite convince himself, but he did manage to ignore it for now, focusing instead on striding through the side yards toward the truck. 

He kept his senses on the lookout for anyone who might have been alarmed by the ruckus she’d caused and either try to intervene, or more likely call the police. He had a cover story ready, of course, but it would be an inconvenience he'd rather avoid. Luckily, he didn’t need it. No one had heard and Alex quieted as soon as they got outside, seemingly not wanting to draw attention either. Whether it was because she didn’t want any trouble or she just didn’t want an audience seeing her carried in such an undignified fashion, John wasn’t sure. But he was grateful either way. 

When he reached the truck, he put her back on her feet, keeping one hand in a firm grip around her elbow, and with some difficulty opened the passenger door. He moved his free hand to the middle of her back, propelling her forward. “Get in the car.”

“No way.”

“Enough, Alex. Now.”

“I told you, I’m not going!”

He leaned down in her ear and spoke low between gritted teeth. “And I told you to. Get. **_In._** ” His right hand moved from her back and he gave her a swift swat on her backside. “The. **_Damn._** **_Car._** ” He used two more smacks to punctuate the last words. 

It was without thinking. It's what he would have done to any of the other girls if they'd have been acting this way. Actually, he'd have done it much sooner, but there was a reason he hadn't given her a warmup before taking her to the car, it had just slipped his mind in the heat of the moment. 

Alex twirled around, face tight, eyes wide. John dropped her arm. He wasn't sure what to expect here. He couldn't let her bolt, but his instincts told him to give her some space after his infringement. “Alex, I’m sorry,” he said, cautiously. 

“No. You’re not.” Her voice was steady and cold as ice. Her eyes slowly narrowed and she stared at him, inside him, for far longer than was comfortable, but he dared not move. Then he watched as her bright blue eyes fell to his belt. “Go ahead. Use it. You know you want to, I deserve it.”

The wave of nausea produced by her tone and the implication of her words was like a fist to the gut. He felt breathless and stared at her, wishing he could fix it - or take it back. “Alex-"

But there was no fixing this, not for Alex. “Say it. I’m selfish. And mean. And ungrateful. And I’m ruining Christmas for everyone.” She paused, but John didn’t move and her gaze rose back to his. “Go ahead, say it! I’ve heard it all before!”

John shoved everything he was feeling behind the carefully maintained wall he'd built long ago. This was about her pain, not his. He'd already fucked this up, royally, and he deserved whatever anguish the situation caused him, but she didn't. He couldn't begin to answer her, the broken pieces in front of him weren't his to try to put together. Maybe she'd seen him for who he was from the beginning - his actions of the past few minutes certainly seemed to bear that out. He kept his voice quiet and hoped she couldn't hear the tremor in it. “Get in the car, Alex.”

Fury mixed with fear, she fisted her hands to keep them from shaking and climbed into the truck. Waiting for the door to slam shut beside her, she stared straight ahead, 

Fucking hell. She was terrified. Of him. She didn't deserve to be trapped in a car with someone she couldn't trust. He could do that much for her. He wiped a hand down his face, leaning against the side of the truck. His voice sounded faint to his own ears. “I’m gonna call Sam and Dean. Have them come drive you home.”

* * *

Alex stared out through the window glass of the truck, memories past and present playing before her eyes over the world’s darkness. She wanted to be out in it, the chill of the air cooling the boiling in her veins. John Winchester had had no right to make demands of her, drag her, carry her. Spank her. He wasn’t her father or her uncle, though there the resemblance was as strong as she thought it would be. There’d been no hug. No _glad you’re okay_ . No _let’s sit down and talk about this_. No respect. Just orders and demands. His way or the highway. 

The highway was looking good. 

But Sam and Dean were on their way and a mile into her walk away from the bunker, she’d realized that her desire had never been to leave them, the two people she knew cared about her, at least when she let herself believe it. No. She’d just wanted to give them all a break. Allow them and the girls to celebrate in peace without her history ruining what should be special for all of them. 

Their first Christmas together. 

She shook her head, putting Christmas out of her mind. Things would be okay again once the holiday passed. Eventually. 

She had grown to love them all - Sam, Dean, Edge, and Panda, even Tosca when she wasn’t driving her crazy like some bratty little sister. It had snuck up on her, this family of misfits. She didn’t want to hurt them. She was tired of hurting them. That’s why she’d left in the first place. If only they could understand that. 

A scuff of a boot on the pavement interrupted her thoughts and Dean cleared his throat. “You're alright.” 

Alex didn’t say anything. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She knew what she’d see, she could hear it clear as day in his voice; anger, disappointment, worry, guilt, attempting to hide it all, but unable. She’d make it easier for both of them. 

“Sam's taking you home. I - I can't.” 

Alex nodded, barely, just enough to let him know that she’d heard. And understood. She’d broken him. A sudden wave of panic flooded her. What if she’d betrayed him too much, broken him too deep? What if by running she’d thrown away the one thing she wanted most in the world?

She flinched at the slam of the door shutting and the sound of his boots on gravel. She turned, desperate now to see just a glimpse of him, but he was gone. 

The driver side door opened and Sam got in. She turned back front and she could feel his eyes on her, but he was quiet as he buckled himself and started the car up, maneuvering through the maze of cul de sacs before pulling them onto the main road. Finally he spoke, a sharp edge to his voice. “Dad and Dean went to grab your stuff. We decided everybody needs a chance to cool off before we deal with you; that means you're on lockdown when we get back - twenty-four hour watch. The only door you're allowed to close is the bathroom.” He paused, waiting to see if she had any response. 

Inside, she trembled at the thought. Outside, she hoped, she didn’t make a move. 

When he continued, it was no longer hinted at, his voice was shaking with anger. “You really had us all worried, Alex. Your sisters are a mess; Panda was so upset she earned herself a serious paddling; I had to line the others up for a switching to keep them from trying to go out looking for you. Dean . . .” He bit back whatever he'd been going to say. He went on a bit quieter, “We all need you. And you left without a word. That's unacceptable. That's all I can say right now.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was so quiet she wasn’t even certain he could hear it. She blinked back tears. 

He risked a look at her before returning his gaze to the road. “I'm glad you're alright, Alex. We'll talk about the rest tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

They drove the rest of the way in miserable silence. When they pulled into the bunker's parking garage, Sam turned off the car and sat staring at the steering wheel for a long moment. He seemed on the verge of saying something, but in the end he just opened the door, coming around to help her out.

She barely looked at him as he opened the door, taking hold of her forearm as she slid out of the truck. He let her set the pace, but didn't let go until he'd closed the bunker door behind them. 

“Do you need to use the restroom right now?” 

She didn’t want to do anything or see anyone. “No.”

“You can go to your room th-”

“Alex!” She didn't know which of the girls spotted them first, but all three were suddenly rushing toward them. Alex flinched backwards into Sam. 

Sam held up a hand. “Hey! Wait a second. Listen up.” His tone was gentle and understanding, but there was no way of mistaking that he expected to be obeyed. “I know you guys were worried and I know you're glad Alex is back. You'll have the chance to talk to her tomorrow, assuming she's up for that. Right now I need you all to make sure you're ready for bed. No arguing tonight, please.” The last word came out sounding full of the exhaustion and frustrations of the last forty-eight hours and no one was foolish enough to ignore it. They all scattered to comply with quiet 'yessir's,' leaving Sam muttering, “It's a miracle,” under his breath. 

“Thank you,” Alex said, an unexpected shyness in her voice. 

He looked down at her, almost surprised. “Of course. I was trying to say, you can go to your room and get ready for bed. Leave the door cracked - you can get dressed real quick, or if you'd rather have more privacy, you can dress in the bathroom. In that case just get your pajamas ready, I'll bring you some dinner in just a minute and I'll escort you.” He waited for her to respond. 

“I’ll just get dressed in my room,” she said. She didn’t want the temptation of privacy. She didn’t want the chance to lower her guard. She didn’t trust herself. She didn’t trust her thoughts. 

“Okay. You understand that your room is the only place you have permission to be right now?”

Being in her room had been all she’d wanted all week. She couldn’t hurt anyone in there. If they’d all just understood that from the beginning, maybe none of this would have happened. But not being allowed to leave...she pushed down the panic. “Yes, sir.” 

“Go on, then. I'll be less than ten minutes.”

Walking down the hallway, she hoped that everyone would obey Sam and just leave her alone. She found her bags on her bed and unpacked them, sliding her clothing back into her drawers. Grabbing her nightgown, she swung her door nearly closed, turned out the light, and changed. She felt like she was moving in slow motion, the world spinning around her while she stood still. Both dreading and hoping for Sam’s return, she climbed into bed and turned her back to the door. In the mercy of the darkness and silence, she felt herself finally let go.

A light double knock sounded on her door and it was pushed open. There was a pause then Sam padded over to her nightstand. He touched her arm briefly. “You should eat something if you can. At least drink the milk.” 

“I’m not hungry,” she muttered. She wanted him there, so much. But she also didn’t. 

“I'm sure you don't feel hungry, but that doesn't mean your body doesn't need it. I'm not gonna force you -”

Now she was getting irritated. “I was just finishing dinner when John barged in and literally dragged me out to his truck, Sam. You all may think I don’t know how to take care of myself, but fact is I can do a pretty damn good job.”

Sam's eyes flashed and his jaw twitched. “You need to watch it. I know you think you're better off on your own, that's beside the point. I knew he interrupted your dinner, that's why I brought you some. Being in emotional distress can mess with your ability to tell whether you're hungry or not and I just wanted to make sure you had whatever you needed. If you don't want it, or can't eat it, fine. It's there if you change your mind.”

She ignored Sam’s ramblings, born of his refusal to say anything that was truly on his mind or to listen to anything that was on hers. But, the last thing she wanted was the food just sitting there, especially if she was just going to be trapped with it. “Please just take it and go.”

Some of Sam's flash of temper had cooled and he reminded her as patiently as he could. “I'm not going anywhere. You're on watch, remember? If it's still there in the morning, someone will toss it for you. Goodnight, Alex.” He walked into the hall, leaving the door wide open and she heard the scrape of wooden chair legs as he took up his post outside her room. 

_Great_ , she thought, trying to ignore him and the tray of food sitting beside her. But it was impossible. Kidnapped by one Winchester. Held prisoner by another. No respect for her wishes, not even a semblance of privacy, not that she was sure she even truly wanted it. She closed her eyes, tried to sleep, but could only toss and turn, her rage growing. The walls in her room turned jail cell closed in around her and the scent of the food only added fuel to the fire. Painful memories washed a sheen of sweat over her skin until she could do nothing but pick up the tray and throw it clear across the room. 

The clatter of metal against concrete, ceramic shattering on the floor, rang loudly through the silence. 

Sam stood up slowly and peered into the room at the mess on the floor and food oozing down the wall. He turned as footsteps came down the hall and murmured to whoever it was. “A tantrum. I'm handling it.”

Alex seethed. _A tantrum_. That’s what he thought. That’s what they all thought, that the four of them were just little girls, children they could control like John had always controlled Sam and Dean, instead of grown-ass adults with minds of their own. 

The footsteps retreated after a moment's hesitation and Sam came in the room, bringing his chair. Closing the door behind him, he sat down a few feet from her. “It seems this can't wait ‘til morning. You can sit there on the bed for now, we're going to talk.” 

“Oh, I can, can I?” she said, getting out of bed just to spite him. She crossed her arms and stood leaning against her dresser, eyes blazing. She was done following orders. 

Sam inhaled sharply and his hand flexed involuntarily. “Really?" He was incredulous. "You think it's a good idea to sass me right now? I guess we'll talk after your spanking, since you're so eager to begin." 

He stood up and in one long stride he was towering over her grabbing at her arm, right where John had. Suddenly her head was spinning, the world moving in slow motion. 

She pulled back instantly, her skin raw from the friction and memory. The fire in her eyes was scorching. “I was right about him from the beginning, but I should have known, Sam Winchester. Like father, like son.”

He pulled his hand away like she'd burned him, his eyes full of shock, quickly replaced with hurt. After a beat he stepped back from her. “A-alex? Fuck. I . . .” He ran a hand through his hair at a loss. When he managed to speak again his voice was raised, but he sounded more desperate than mad - not that his anger had completely left him. “What do you want?!! I'm trying to help, but I don't know how, and you - do you really think that?” 

“I left. By my own choice. _Your_ father literally grabbed me by the arm, dragged me, threw me over his shoulder, and carried me, against my will, from the place I had gone to protect _you_ and your brother from my pain. He wouldn’t listen. Didn’t even try. Not even when I said no. And when I refused to follow his orders, he smacked my ass. And what do _you_ do? You force me back here. No question, no choice. You confine me to my room, refuse to respect my decisions, take away my privacy, say that I’m _tantruming_ when I have every fucking right to be angry, and when I refuse to obey your orders, you go to spank me too. So, yeah, I’d say there’s a family resemblance.”

Sam looked at his hands for a moment, they were shaking slightly and he sat down, putting them on his knees to still them. He looked back into her eyes and his voice was a little calmer. “You agreed. I didn't do anything you didn't agree to. I thought I was helping you, Alex. My dad . . . he told me what happened. He wasn't trying - “ he broke off shaking his head. “He knew he screwed up; that's why he called us to come get you. That's not, not fair. I would _never . . ._ Alex, please tell me you know that, cause if not - Fuck.” He dashed tears from his eyes and looked back at her, silent for the moment.

Alex’s gaze fell to the floor. It was too much, seeing the pain in his eyes. Hearing it in his voice. She loved him. She trusted him. She never wanted to disappoint him and yet here she was accusing him of… He was right. She’d agreed. She’d agreed because she’d needed it, needed him. He’d been the closest thing to a father since her own, reminded her so much of him. She was right; like father, like son. Just not his. 

“I know,” she said, voice soft as she looked up at him through her own tears. “I know, Sam, I’m sorry. John just…” She shook her head and turned away. They didn’t need to talk about John. 

He took a deep breath and his trembling stilled. “Do you need . . . I'm a little lost here, I don't wanna do the wrong thing . . . Are - are you okay? Do you need me to give you some space, or - Whatever you need right now, Alex, I'll do my best to make it happen.” He looked searchingly at her face. 

“I don’t…” She didn’t know either. She didn’t know much of anything anymore, everything was upside down and backwards. But as much as she was fighting it, she knew one thing. “I don’t want you to go.”

Sam chewed on his lip, quiet for a moment. He spoke haltingly, “I know when we started this, I was skeptical, I fought him on it, but after . . . the first time . . . and it really seemed to help and you all agreed that it was beneficial, even if you complained at the time. I just . . . Did we make you feel you had to submit to that to be part of this family? That's not - Even if he meant his ‘there's the door’ threat, I would never let that happen. You're my sister and you have a place here.”

Alex scoffed slightly, raising an amused brow as she turned back to him. “He made it pretty clear that he meant it, Sam,” she told him. One look at the wince on his face though and her heart clenched. She took a step toward him. “But that’s not...that’s not why I said yes. To this. I know it seems like Dean and I have this special...” She blushed despite herself. What she felt for Dean she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to explain in words. But Sam...in some ways he was even more special. “Ever since I've been here, you’re the one that reminds me of my dad. And even though my dad and John were nothing alike, well, let’s just say he wouldn’t have disagreed with _all_ of John’s methods.”

His eyebrows rose as he mulled this over, varying emotions flashed across his face. He cleared his throat. “I, uh, I have something to tell you and I don't want to give you more reason to be upset, or feel like it was one more thing done _to_ you against your wishes. I can only say at the time I thought I was doing what I had to in order to take care of you . . .”

She was quickly growing tired of his rambling. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Sam, stop tip-toeing around me, I’m not going to bolt.”

His nose wrinkled and he almost broke into one of his classic bitch faces before it turned into a weak smile. His “good,” was almost too soft to hear. 

He sobered. “I did some research on your family while you were gone. I found some records that contained some details on your parents’ death. I know that you were 13 and they left you home alone for the first time to hunt some monster, and never came back. And I know it was right before Christmas.” 

Alex felt her stomach drop. She walked over to her bed and sunk down, staring at her fingers in her lap. 

Sam continued. “Something was wrong with the research and your aunt and uncle recovered - them. Gave them a hunter's funeral, and took you to live with them. Anniversaries . . . can be hard. I can only imagine. I don't even remember my mom, and the anniversary of her death is still rough for all of us.” 

He paused and his next words came out very low. “Makes sense, now - why Dean and Edge going on that hunt had you so shaken. I wish you could have told someone; that you didn't feel like you had to go through all of it alone, but I can't say I don't get it.” 

Alex shook her head. “You don’t. Get it, I mean. My parents, they loved Christmas. Every year we’d decorate the house top to bottom. It wasn’t just them, we had a system, a tradition, of how they’d do it and how I helped them.” She paused for a moment, blinking away the tears. More than one rolled down her cheek. “Before they’d left, I’d been bugging them and we’d been just about to start when news of the monster came in. They thought it would be a milk run.” She brushed her sleeve across her eyes. “The last thing they said to me, laughing together as they headed out the door, was...don’t decorate for Christmas without us.”

Sam exhaled deeply and a few fresh tears were in his eyes, too. “I'm so sorry, kiddo. God.” 

She didn’t answer him, too lost in her own memories. “My Aunt and Uncle, they just...they just kept going with the holidays. Like the world hadn’t suddenly turned upside down. They let it go, thought like you, that it was just grief, it’d be better next year. But it wasn’t. And they stopped...they stopped being forgiving.”

Sam had gone completely still. His voice held an undercurrent of cold anger. “What . . ? Alex, what does that mean?”

His anger sent a chill through her veins, waking her from her thoughts. She raised her eyes, meeting his, and she bit her lip. She couldn’t tell him. It would be risking too much. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, managing a sad smile. 

He didn't return the smile, but he got ahold of his anger, leaving him full of concern. He got out of the chair slowly and crouched down near the bed so their eyes were level, setting his hand on the comforter near enough she could close the gap and make contact if she wanted. “Alex, _please_ , it does matter. Did, did they hurt you?”

She looked down and shrugged. Sam didn’t need to know. “They just...didn’t care, you know.” She squinted up at him. “Not like you and Dean. They were just...angry. Frustrated.”

Something in his face, in his response, suggested he didn't totally buy it, but he let it lie. “I'm sorry. I wish I could have saved you from that. You deserved better. You deserved better the past couple weeks, too.”

“So did you. You deserved to know. About Christmas, I mean. Maybe, if you had, I could have saved you from this.”

“Saved me?” Sam's confused expression was almost comical. “From what?”

She wasn’t laughing though. “Me. The hurt and pain I’ve put you all through. Everything I did here. Yelling at the girls, John, disobeying. Running away.” Her skin flushed with shame. 

“I'll agree that some of your behavior hasn't been acceptable this week, and I appreciate you apologizing, but _you're_ not something I had to endure. You're the one going through this. I wish I could have done a better job at being there for you. At making sure you know you aren't some burden. We'd have salted and burned every single reminder of Christmas in the entire bunker if it had a chance of helping. I think you know it wouldn't, though.”

He paused and searched her face before continuing in a low voice. “I didn't know your parents, but if they cared about you like I think they did, they wouldn't want you to not allow yourself to be happy. They wouldn't have wanted their last words to be something that kept you trapped in that pain. We don't expect you to just shake it off; coming back from something like that isn't easy or straightforward, but my hope would be that celebrating Christmas could become a celebration of them and your memories of their love for you.”

“Maybe,” she said, taking a deep breath. It sounded too good to be true. “I don’t know how to do that, though. I’ve spent nearly half my life trying, but it...it never works.”

“You can take small steps. We don't have to blast Christmas music twenty-four seven, you can come out and help make cookies. And if you find yourself getting overwhelmed or withdrawing, that's okay. You tried. Talk about how you're feeling with whoever you are comfortable with. Cry if you have to. If you want to do something special to honor your parents, we can do that with you. I'm not claiming to have all the answers, but we're here for you, Alex.”

She felt another tear slip down her face. “Thanks, Sam. I...I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

“That's not true. You're more than worth it.”

She didn’t say anything, just stared at her blanket, pulling at a loose thread. The utter heartbreak she’d heard in Dean’s voice was all she needed to know Sam was wrong. 

“Where's your head at now?” Sam touched her chin gently. 

She shook her head. “I hurt you all so much. Dean…” Her voice choked just saying his name. “He couldn’t even...I don’t know...I’m not…”

Sam was quiet a moment. He straightened slowly and sat back on the chair. His voice was a bit more stern. “Dean . . . he was a bit of a mess when we realized you were gone. He thinks it's his fault, that he was too hard on you all week; that he didn't do enough to help you. ” 

“He’s wrong,” she said quietly. “You know that.”

“Yeah. I do. Doesn't change the fact that your actions have consequences. You'll get a chance to talk to him tomorrow, come clean - he deserves that - and apologize for hurting him like that.”

Alex nodded. She couldn’t wait for tomorrow though. “My dad, he used to have three rules for discipline. The punishment should fit the crime. The pain you receive should be a reminder of the pain you caused. And the humiliation of the punishment should be a reflection of the shame of what you’ve done.”

“I guess I see what you mean when you say I remind you of him. I don't enjoy causing you pain, but appropriate punishment makes you face what you've done and allows you to process and let go of the guilt. It's my responsibility to give you that when you need it.” Sam sounded resolved, “I wasn't planning on doing this tonight, but it's clearly eating at you and it'd be unkind to make you wait. Come here, Alex.”

Alex exhaled as she got up, relief and dread warring inside her as she made her way to Sam. 

He took her arm when she was close enough, looking her piercingly in the eye. “You understand why we're here. You have a problem, you stay, talk it out with your family, fix it. You don't run, endanger yourself, and cause your family worry and pain.”

Tears welled in her eyes and she nodded, wiping them away. “Yes, sir,” she whispered. It had been hard, believing they were family. It was hard remembering, knowing, that family took care of one another. But she was going to do everything she could to make things right, and try not to forget again.

“Alright, then. Over my lap.”

Her face flushed immediately, but as she draped herself over his lap, she embraced the heat that ran through her body. She deserved to feel it, and so much more, for everything she’d done wrong. Handling things so poorly. Making selfish decisions. Hurting them all so much. 

Sam whisked her nightgown up to rest on her back and tugged her underwear down around her knees. She squeezed her eyes shut, her breath shuddering with that horrible feeling of still anticipation, and then his hand came down for the first time. The swat was so sharp it took her breath away. 

She grabbed hold of the legs of the chair, gripping them hard in her fists, knowing this was just the beginning of the pain she had earned. 

Another crack of his hand landed with the same intensity on the same side. It was followed by another and another. 

She took the pain in silence, holding her breath when she needed to in order to stop herself from crying out. She didn’t deserve the release, she most certainly didn’t deserve his pity. She’d seen his pain, heard his anger, felt his fear. She’d caused it. She’d do anything to pay back her debt. 

He started in on the other side, giving her several harsh smacks in succession. He kept up the pattern, switching sides every four or five swats, never letting up and never varying the tempo. She couldn't recall a hand spanking ever hurting quite that much, but Sam's hand was large and he wasn't holding back. 

Then he started talking as he spanked, his voice severe. “That was a terrible way to treat the people who care about you . . . You know better than to run and hide away . . . You didn't even leave us any way to know where you were going . . . If you were coming back . . . It has nothing to do with your competence . . . Our line of work, you don't get to call a timeout on monsters coming after you . . . You could have been hurt or killed and we wouldn't have known . . . You know what it feels like, Alex, how could you sentence us to having to go through that? . . . And making everyone miserable because we felt like we'd let you down when you needed us . . . None of us deserved that . . . Dean definitely didn't deserve that . . .”

Alex started crying with the first reprimand; his words, his anger, going straight to her heart, breaking it into a million lost pieces. There was no way to ignore it, no way to pretend it wasn’t true or that it didn’t matter. There was no way to believe that his words weren’t born of pain that she’d caused, weren’t anything but a desperate plea for her to never do it again. 

“I’m sorry, Sam,” she said, sobbing now. She let go of the chair to wipe her face. “I am so sorry.”

He tilted her forward slightly and a barrage of swats fell on her sitspots and thighs. She let go of the chair legs, balancing with her fingertips on the floor. She had trouble not kicking, but she crossed her feet at her ankles and forced them down. He kept going, picking up in speed, until the sting was almost unbearable and it felt endless. 

And then, finally, he stopped. Holding her carefully, he guided her back to her feet, giving her a moment to steady herself. Her panties slipped to the floor, but she barely noticed. Sam reached out, raising her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I believe you,” he said. “And I forgive you. Go get me something to finish up here. A brush, a belt, I don't care.”

On shaky legs, Alex went to her closet, grabbing a tissue along the way to clean up her face. Looking through her collection of belts, she found one that called out to her - soft crocodile cow skin leather, the strap one inch in width. Rolling it in her hand, she brought it back and held it out to Sam who stood beside the chair waiting. 

He took the belt and nodded his approval. “Go get your pillow and put it on the chair.”

Alex hesitated, his order not what she expected, but she quickly obeyed.

He pointed to the side of the chair. “You're going to stand here. Lift your nightgown and bend all the way over. I want your bottom centered on your pillow.”

Any other day and she’d more than likely beg and plead to avoid the embarrassment of that order. But not today. Today she raised her nightgown, baring her already red bottom to the man she knew was helping her start to make things okay again, and leaned over the chair. She rested her backside atop the pillow, and again grabbed hold of the legs. 

Sam tapped the folded belt against her hip. “You will count these. I had to hear the pain in my brother's voice all day and now I have to hear yours. You can think about that while we finish this.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, swallowing hard. Her heart clenched in her chest. 

She heard the distinctive clink of the buckle as the belt was lifted and came down with a _swish-crack_ on her upturned bottom. 

“Ah,” she winced, a burn blossoming across her skin. “One.”

The next stroke landed, only slightly lower than the first.

The strength of the stroke knocked her off balance and her hands slipped from the chair. She grasped at the floor. “Two.”

Sam's hand braced against her back, steadying her, right before the lash came cutting low across her sitspots. 

There was no mercy, the belt cut across her skin like fire. She sucked in a breath and fisted her hands, forcing her legs still. “Th...three,” she managed through gritted teeth. 

Two more fell in quick succession overlapping the last one. 

Tears filled her eyes. “Four. F...five.”

The next two sliced across the center of her bottom, leaving lines of fire in their wake. 

“Six,” she cried. “Ahhh, Sam, please! Seven!”

The next stroke whipped across her thighs.

Any chance of holding back her tears, her cries, her dignity, was gone. “Eight, god, Sam…”

To her surprise there was nothing for a moment. Then Sam began to talk. “I'm not going to ask you for promises you can't keep. I'm aware you'll most likely run again, and I don't expect you to be perfect. What I do expect is for you to keep in mind how much we care about you. You can't just pretend that your decisions affect only yourself. For these last strokes you're going to count and then I want you to say ‘I'm sorry for selfishly hurting my family through my careless actions.’ Instead of ‘my family’ you're going to list us by name one at a time starting with, ‘Nine, I'm sorry for selfishly hurting Tosca through my careless actions.’ Do you understand?”

The urge to complain was nearly automatic. Sam knew how much she hated that kind of thing, how humiliating it was to admit her mistakes, admit her shame. But that was the point and she knew it. And she told herself that today, she’d accept it. “Yes, sir,” she said. “I understand.”

“Good.” The belt tapped against her hip again. It was raised and sliced across the top of her bottom.

“Fuck.” The swear slipped out without thought but she quickly scrambled to remember what she was supposed to say. “Nine. I’m sorry for… for… um… selfishly hurting Tosca...um…”

“Through your careless actions.” Sam supplied patiently. 

“Sorry...through my careless actions.”

The next stroke fell, sizzling the already well-punished skin in the center of her bottom. 

She sucked in a breath, not sure how she was going to get through every one of them. She could feel the welts forming. “T...ten. I'm sorry for selfishly h...hurting Panda through my careless actions.”

“She cried, did you know that? They all did at some point, but when she was told she couldn't go help look for you, I watched her just completely break down - from fear, hurt, guilt. She thinks she let _you_ down. That's why I'm calling what you did selfish. I know you thought you were doing it for us, but the reality is, it was because you would rather hide than open up to us, let us see what you were going through. Be with you; help you through it. You weren't doing anyone any favors.” The belt connected sharply with her right undercurve. 

Tears ran down her face. “God, Sam, I’m so…” How could she have done that to her friend. Her sister. It was so hard to believe that they cared that much. That what she did mattered to them. “Eleven. I'm sorry for selfishly hurting Edge through my careless actions. Sam I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” 

“Those girls love you. They would fight their way to hell and back for you, any of em. I caught Edge and Tosca both trying to sneak out to go look for you, even though they'd been promised a switching if they did. The repercussions of their decisions are on them, but the fear and distress that drove them to it, that's on you. They didn't deserve what you put them through.” He swung the belt again, connecting with her left sitspot. 

Her entire body blazed hot, head to toe, with shame and pain, and she tried to believe that this was how much they had hurt at the thought of losing her. “Twelve. I'm sorry for selfishly hurting...you...through my careless actions. Sam, please…”

There was a long beat of just silence. Sam rubbed the center of her back, his voice was hoarse, “I forgive you, Alex. You're almost done.” The strap whipped down on her right thigh. 

“Thirteen,” she nearly cried out from the pain. “I’m sorry for selfishly hurting Dean thr...-“ She broke down sobbing. She tried to say the words, to admit how she’d hurt him, how _much_ she’d hurt him; the one person she never should have left, never should have lied to, never should have thought she could live her life without. She couldn’t stop the loop in her head. _Selfishly hurting Dean. Selfishly hurting Dean_. She tried to say what she needed to say. But there were no words left to spill, only tears. 

Sam crouched down and moved his hand to her head. “Finish it, Alex.”

She shook her head hard. “I c...can’t…please, Sam.”

“You can. You owe it to him to own up to what you did.”

She knew he was right. She knew she’d never be able to face him later if she couldn’t even say it out loud now. She reached up to wipe her face with her sleeve. “I'm sorry for selfishly hurting Dean through my careless actions.”

“Well done.” He cupped the back of her neck briefly, stood and resumed his position. 

It took her only a second to realize what was happening. “No, Sam-“ she cried, knowing what Sam would expect but it was too late. The belt tapped one last time and licked across her left thigh. 

The belt stung but not as badly as the thought of saying the same words for John that she had for the girls, for Sam, for Dean. Not after what he’d done. “Fourteen,” she counted but it was all she could say. All she would say. 

Sam waited several long moments before he must have realized. “Alex?”

“No,” she said, her voice firm with resolve. She didn’t care what he’d do. “I won’t.”

Another length of silence and suddenly Sam was lifting her. The pillow fell to the floor and he sat her in the chair - not roughly, but it didn't matter much to her raw bottom. The pain ran through her like flames on a pyre and she gripped the chair, taking the pressure off her ass as much as she thought she could get away with. She squeezed her eyes shut until the burn settled, becoming a new part of her, a penance that she embraced. Only once it did, did she open her eyes to look at Sam. 

He sat on the bed and looked her in the eye, studying her. “You wanna tell me why?” 

“I...I don’t know if I can explain it. I just...if I do apologize to him, after what he did, I think that needs to be between him and me.”

“It wasn't between just him and you, though. I got to watch him spiral while desperately trying to pretend he wasn't. I got to watch John Winchester cry - a couple times. I am not in any way condoning or excusing what he did, let's get that out of the way, but he's not the one sitting here accepting punishment from me. I'm looking at what you did. So are you saying that you don't think your actions hurt him, or since after you hurt him he reacted badly, you don't believe he deserves your remorse?”

“I’m saying that I apologized to you. For whatever hurt I caused you, and that includes how anyone else’s reactions hurt you. But I won’t apologize for something I didn’t do. So if John was hurt because of me, I’m sorry, but I need to hear that from him, not you.”

Sam held her gaze a moment longer. “Alright, Alex. That's fair. You're done.” He stood and lifted her out of the chair. “I don't imagine sitting feels very good right now, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, standing up. At this point it didn’t really make too much of a difference. “I deserve it.”

“Will you drink water if I bring you some?”

“Yeah, sure.” She looked over at the mess she’d made with the tray, on the wall, on the floor. “I’ll clean that up.”

“I've got it. You get back in bed. I'll be right back.” He picked up the tray and the pieces of bowl and carried them down the hall. 

She tried to make her way to bed, but the moment Sam was gone, all of Alex’s strength left her and her knees nearly gave way. She quickly walked to her dresser, gripping the edge, trying to catch her breath, to let go of all the guilt and shame she normally could after a punishment. But she couldn’t. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was red, cheeks stained with tears, eyes swollen. Her backside was throbbing and yet there was so much that still seemed unfinished. Dean...

Sam returned with a glass of water and a roll of paper towels. Seeing her, he stopped short, tossed the paper towels into the corner and moved quickly to her side. “Damn it, I'm sorry, Alex. Come here.” Alex turned and he set the water on the nightstand only a second before she fell into his arms and broke down again. He just held her for a moment. 

“Dean,” she cried, her breath hitching. “I need to see him. Please, Sam.”

Sam pulled back a little to look at her. He hesitated, torn. “You can fix things with him tomorrow. You know he'll forgive you, right?” 

“I’m scared, Sam. What if he can’t? What if I’ve messed things up too much?”

“Impossible. Part of being a family is screwing up, even letting each other down. Dean and I have gone through it so many times. I've hurt him accidentally and purposefully. I've betrayed him, hurt him worse than anyone else ever could. And he's done the same. You can trust me, he considers you his family and that means something to him. He's not cutting you loose. Not ever.”

She desperately wanted to believe him. But Sam was his brother. A real brother. He’d do anything for Sam, die for Sam, everyone knew that. But who was she really? Just some kid off the street that maybe reminded him of himself sometimes. She wouldn’t lie to herself. She knew he meant a lot more to her than she ever would to him. 

Sam sighed. “Alex, I'm sorry. Tomorrow. It'll be okay. Here. Have some water, first.” He held the glass out to her still holding her.

She took a few sips, letting the cool liquid soothe her slightly before handing it back. “Thank you,” she whispered shyly. “Not just for the water.”

Some of the tension in his face and shoulders relaxed. “Of course, Alex. Come on to bed.” He coaxed her into the bed, helping her get settled on her stomach before sitting himself down next to her. He trailed his fingers over her scalp and through her hair. 

She tried to settle down but her mind was spinning with thoughts of the girls, Dean. John. “What happens tomorrow?” She wasn’t sure how to face them.

He stilled his hand, looking down at her. “I think it won't be as difficult as you're imagining. I mean, maybe a little bruising to the ego, you've got a few apologies to get through, but mostly everyone is just going to be glad you're back. Some of them are going to be trying to apologize to you. I know I'll be there for you if you need me, for whatever that's worth.” 

“The girls don’t have anything to apologize for,” Alex said. 

“You're welcome to tell them that. I'd wear a raincoat. You're gonna get cried on.”

“Great.” She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the small smile that slipped on her lips. 

“You know, whatever we do, rules, consequences, any of it, is meant to make you feel safe. Feel protected, loved, and secure. The second something doesn't do that or makes you feel the opposite, I need to know you’ll tell us, find some way to get our attention. Because that's not something any of us want.”

“How?”

“Honestly, whatever you have to do. You managed to get my attention tonight, and although I wouldn't prefer you throwing food around in general, I would prefer that to hurting you.”

“I don’t know, you did a pretty good job hurting me,” she said with a smirk. “My ass is on fire.”

“Har, har. Your butt I'm fine with. I never want to hurt _you_.” He tapped her head with one finger. “You could always say you don't feel safe. No one here would ignore that.” 

No one. She hoped that was true. “Okay.”

“Yeah? Well, good. I'm proud of you, though, for standing up for yourself. Really. Thank you for stopping me.”

If there was one thing she was good at, it was standing up for herself. She’d had to. Even when it didn’t always work. “Thank you for stopping. Really, Sam. I don’t think I can explain how much that means to me.”

He looked somber at the thought. “That's on us. You shouldn't have had to figure out what to do in that situation and wonder if it was going to work or not. I'm going to be bringing it up. Make sure everyone knows what to do in case of emergency.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Do you think you could try to sleep?”

“Yeah,” she said, yawning just to prove it. 

He resumed caressing her hair. “I'm glad you're back with us, Alex,” his voice was soft. “Goodnight.”

She closed her eyes, the feel of his hand making her feel safer than she had in a really long time. Just like her father had done. “Night, Sam.”


	10. 3 days ‘til Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Alex here. Sorry for the delay in this chapter, it’s been crazy and the four of us had some stuff on this chapter to complete, and Panda and I had a significant rewrite to grapple with, so it took a bit longer. Next chapter is still in progress as well, so hang tight while we figure it all out. In the meantime, your brilliant comments and questions filled with love keep us going, so thank you to each and every one of you <3

* * *

Alex woke the next morning with her face dry and swollen, the burn in her backside simmering and raw, and her heart aching with unfinished business. She looked around. Sam had gone at some point, the door was closed. No one was watching her. She carefully slipped out of bed, her skin going from warm to burning when she accidentally scraped it against the mattress, and she sucked in a breath. When the worst had passed, she slipped on her robe and slowly opened her door. 

To her great relief, there was no one outside, and she padded down the hall to the bathroom. A cool shower was what she needed to soothe her eyes, her face, her butt. She turned it on, letting it warm up only a second before she shed her clothes and got in. She let the water run over her body, lessen the swelling, the redness, wash away the pain of last night to make room for today’s. When she was shivering and sure her lips were blue, she got out and wrapped herself gingerly in a towel. At the sink she brushed her teeth, lotioned her face, adding concealer for good measure, then turned around and dropped her towel. This wasn’t her first rodeo, she knew what to expect. Sam was thorough with his spanking, but that redness in her cheeks had long faded. It was the lashes that had left a lasting impression, spread out over her bottom and thighs. The actual damage wasn’t as bad as it had felt. She should have known. Sam wasn’t cruel.

She looked toward the door as if Sam could see through it, and picked up the lotion. She knew she shouldn’t, and ordinarily she wouldn’t; it wasn’t exactly forbidden to use some after a punishment, but it certainly wasn’t encouraged without express permission. But her punishment wasn’t finished. And she had to go to Dean willing and able to take every ounce of the pain she’d put him through. It would be the only way to make it right with him. If he let her.

She put that fear out of her mind. It would come back full force later. But she had a whole other set of wrongs to make right first.

The burn somewhat soothed, she went back to her room to get dressed, carefully deciding on her softest pink rayon skirt and a black top with a front pocket. Inside it she slipped the note she’d written Dean the night she’d ran. She still didn’t know if she’d show it to him. But it would ground her, talking to him. Remembering everything that was at stake. 

But first, she had to tackle breakfast. 

Sam was up, cooking at the stove in the kitchen, the girls all gathered round the table.

Sam glanced up when she came in and gave her an encouraging smile. "Good morning, Alex. Why don't you sit down and I'll bring you over some breakfast. What do you want in your omelet?"

Alex hadn’t been planning to sit down at all. The last thing she needed was to reignite the pain she’d just dulled. “No, it’s good, I’m good,” she said as she moved into the room and leaned against the island as casually as possible. She eyed the girls out of the corner of her eye as guilt crashed over her, nervously trying to appraise their moods. They seemed to be doing the same with her. “I’ll just, um, have cheese and broccoli. Or whatever’s easiest, really, doesn’t matter.”

Sam hesitated, then turned back to his cooking. "Cheese and broccoli it is, but you'll eat your breakfast at the table, please."

“Saam,” Alex whined, going to his side to whisper to him. “Come on, I’ve still got to deal with D-” But then she abruptly cut herself off. Because what if Sam knew something that she didn’t? What if Sam knew that Dean was really and truly through with her this time? That there wouldn’t be any more punishment coming. 

"Alex." Sam put the spatula down and turned to her, setting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Everything's going to be okay with Dean. Right now, I think it would be best if you could sit and eat breakfast with your sisters. I think they deserve that if you can."

“Yeah, okay.” She looked over at her sisters, who were all trying to pretend they weren’t looking at her. Then she glanced back up at him. “What if they hate me?”

"Oh my gosh!" Panda exclaimed. "Could you just get your butt over here? I got it a pillow." Her cheeks were red and her eyes a little teary but she had a small smile on her face. 

Alex’s face grew hot and she knew she was bright red, but she let out an embarrassed laugh. Ignoring Sam’s  _ I told you so _ look, she went to sit with her sisters atop Panda’s pillow. She had to admit she was grateful. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, her cheeks flaring. 

Panda looked almost as embarrassed. "I didn't know for sure, but I figured there was a chance you might need it. And I didn't mean to embarrass you, I just wanted you to feel . . . like you were wanted here." She turned her head, trying to hide her tears by quickly wiping them on her sleeve. 

Now Alex teared up as well. “I wasn’t sure...you guys I’m really sorry. I heard… the pillow...I heard it’s going around.” She lowered her head, ashamed of what she’d made them do. “You guys really shouldn’t have done anything to get yourselves switched for me. I...I wasn’t worth it. It was my fault, leaving, I just thought…”

Edge reached a hand across the table to grab Alex’s. “Hey, you stop that. You  _ are  _ worth it, and we’d do it all over again. Not that I want you to- to want to run away again, but- you know what I’m saying, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.” Alex nodded. She looked back up. “I just...I can’t believe you guys don’t hate me. Or at least aren’t mad as hell at me. I mean, after everything I did, hurting all of you, and then you gettin’ a lickin’ on top of it…” She didn’t understand it. 

Tosca looked at her. “We were scared, worried that something-- bad would happen to you.” Her voice was quiet.

Panda nodded. "I'm not mad, I'm just glad you're home. Safe. And, anyway, Sam says you shouldn't blame yourself for choices other people made. If we got ourselves in trouble, that's on us, not you."

“Still, Sam switching-” Alex shook her head, lowering her eyes to the table again. “I was fine. I just thought you were all so much better off without me here.”

“How can you say that?” Edge leaned forward, voice tight. “Is that what you make of us? A bunch of hypocrites who are only nice to your face but wishing you were gone when your back is turned? You don’t think we care about you? You really think we’d rather you weren’t here?!”

“No, I just thought…” She looked up at Sam who offered her only one raised eyebrow before shifting his expression back into a willful ignorance of what was going on behind him. “I thought I was making everyone’s Christmas miserable and if I just….let you guys be and not get messed up in my...shit…then it wouldn’t be like that. And I know I should have let you know, let you all know, but…I don’t know. I just didn’t.”

Tosca cleared her throat. “Dean said you were hurting, I mean, it was obvious that you were having a hard time with the holiday. If the prank I played on you made it worse and had anything to do with you running, I’m really sorry. I know you don’t like me much so I’ll just try to stay out of your way.” She dropped her eyes to the table.

“Tosca, that’s not…” She reached out and grabbed Tosca‘s hand. “That’s not true that I don’t like you. Sure, you frustrate me sometimes, but we all do. I hear that’s normal in families? I don’t know. And yeah, the prank started me down the spiral, but if you hadn’t done that then it would have been something else; Sam with his baking or Panda’s Christmas carols or Edge’s advent or John-” She quickly stopped that train of thought. “My point is, I didn’t leave because of Dean’s stupid elf or what you did with it, or anyone else for that matter.” Even John, if she were completely honest with herself. “I left because it was Christmas and staying...it didn’t seem an option without spending the week getting my ass whipped and hurting all of you and, well…” Her voice grew quiet. “I’ve spent way too many Christmases like that. And I didn’t want to here. I didn’t want to hurt everyone here. I care about you all too much. I wanted it to be different, I just couldn’t figure out how.”

Panda cautiously slid her hand on top of Alex's. "Maybe, with everybody's help - Sam's and Dean's, we can figure it out together? I - I would rather treat Christmas like any normal day and have you there, a part of it, than have the cookies and the presents and all the rest of it, but have you miserable and separated from the family."

Tosca pulled her hand away, her face getting red. “So it  _ was _ partly my fault that you ran away...is that why you wouldn’t accept my apology, why you barely even looked at me when I tried to say I was sorry? Because I _ am _ sorry, I never wanted to hurt anyone--” She stopped and bit her lip.

“Tosca.” Alex closed her eyes for a second before opening them again. “I don’t know what to say. It wasn’t your fault. I’m responsible for running and I’m the…” Just then Sam brought over her omelette and she glanced up at him. His pursed lips and pointed gaze made his thoughts clear. No matter what anyone, including John, had done, the decision to run had been hers and hers alone. “I’m the only one whose fault it was.”

Tosca’s voice was quiet again. “Do you still think I’m a bitch, and the other things you said before?” 

Alex turned her attention back to Tosca and her heart went out to her. “No, Tosca, of course not. If anyone here’s a bitch it’s me, and a selfish one at that. I’m sorry I ever called you those names. You didn’t deserve it.”

Sam leaned over and whispered, though she was sure everyone could hear. “If you wanna call yourself names, I’m pretty sure you’re gonna be losing that pillow.”

“Sorry, Sam,” she whispered back. 

“You’re not a bitch, Alex... I didn’t mean what I said to you either. Thank you for apologizing...do you accept my apology?” Tosca glanced up at Alex. 

As far as Alex was concerned, it had been over and done with ages ago. “Of course I do, Tosca. I’m sorry you’ve been hanging onto this for so long.”

A slight frown crossed over Tosca’s face, and she stared at the tabletop. “I’ve been’ hanging on’ to it because I was hurt, not only by the things you said to me, I was hurt again when I went to apologize and you rebuffed me. What was I supposed to think, I felt like I was baring my soul to you and you didn’t even care enough to respond to what I said. And then shortly after that, you ran away. I thought that that meant that you still felt the same way and that you didn’t want to have anything to do with me. I felt--guilty, and-- _ scared, _ that you ran partly because of what I did, and if--if something bad happened to you, it would partly be my fault too.” Tears stood in Tosca’s eyes now, and she covered her eyes with her hand. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” Her voice cracked. “Thank you for apologizing to me. That--that’s all I wanted, to know that we apologized to each other and you heard what I said to you. And to figure out how to be if--if you _ did  _ want me to stay out of your way.” She wiped her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “But that’s not an issue, so…” She gave Alex a small relieved smile.

“Look, Tosca. I’m so sorry you felt guilty for me running. But it wasn’t your fault at all.” She looked around at the rest of them. “And I’m sorry any of you were scared. I was just trying to protect you.” She cut herself off. “I did a lousy job of it though. It’s been a really long time since I’ve had a...family...that cared, and I’m still trying to figure out what that means. I can’t change what I did, or didn’t do. I did hear you, Tosca, and I do forgive you. Even if you can’t forgive me. I never meant to hurt you and I’m sorry if I did. And I do want you around...if you want me.”

Tosca looked around at everyone sitting at the table. “This is a...different..kind of family, and I think we’re all trying to figure out...how we all fit together?” Her eyes came to rest on Alex. “I forgave you before, and I never meant to hurt you either. I do forgive you, and I  _ do _ want you around. It’s nice... to have sisters.” She reached out and squeezed Alex’s hand.

Panda cleared her throat. "Of course we want you. I'm sorry you felt like you had to protect us from what you were going through; that you had to deal with it alone. But thank you, for explaining it to us. That means a lot."

Edge stared at Alex directly, unblinking. “I tried to go after you because I wanted to get you back here with us.  _ You _ , back  _ here _ , with  _ us _ . I wouldn’t have risked a switching for someone I didn’t care about. I hope it’s answer enough for you.”

There was something in Edge’s eyes that filled Alex with complete respect for the girl. “It is answer enough,” she assured her. “Thank you. All of you. I think...I think I’m starting to get it,” she said with a blush. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.”

“I know that you wanted to protect us,” Tosca said to Alex, “But you can-- let us in. Being in a family means protecting each other, and also caring for each other, and-- allowing others to care for us. You know?” She blushed a little. “It’s hard to get used to--being cared for.” 

Alex shook her head. “That...that hasn’t been what family’s been for me for a very long time. Quite the opposite actually. The word...it just doesn’t have that meaning for me. But...I’m trying to learn that doesn’t mean I can’t have those things with you guys.” Her thoughts drifted to Dean. “Whatever we call it.”

Sam came up to stand behind Alex's chair again. He braced both hands on the chair back in a protective stance. "Tosca, do you feel like it's resolved now, between you and Alex?"

“Yeah, I do. Thanks, Sam.” She looked up at him and gave him a grateful smile.

"I'm glad to hear it. You and I will have a talk later; I want to make sure you've forgiven yourself. It's important to feel heard and like your feelings are acknowledged, but it's only going to go so far if there's still guilt you're holding on to. And Alex wouldn't be responsible for that, does that make sense?" Sam's voice was gentle and understanding. 

“Yes, it does.” Tosca nodded. “Um, talk, or, uhh... _ talk?”  _ She asked nervously.

Sam's lips twitched briefly in a small smile. "Just a talk. Unless one of us thinks you need a  _ talk _ for some reason. Now, unless anyone has something pressing, I'd like to save any heavy discussions for later. I think Alex has been through quite a lot and needs to feel our love and support right now. Can we have a lighter breakfast, or is there still something hindering that for someone?"

Alex looked up at Sam, grateful. “I’m good here, Sam.” With everything else, well, that was a different story, but she was sure Sam would be well aware of that. 

Panda smiled, relieved. "I like that plan, Sam."

Sam nodded. "Good. Does anyone need seconds yet?"

Alex fiddled with her omelette. She’d thought she was hungry but even with all this resolved, with Dean still looming in the distance, she could barely eat. “No, thanks, Sam.” He rubbed her shoulder gently, but didn't comment. 

Tosca looked up at him again. “Are you going to eat, Sam?”

"I will, as soon as I'm done cooking." He smiled at her. "So what do you think, are you gonna want another one?"

“No, thank you.” Tosca smiled back at him.

“It was delicious, I’m stuffed,” Edge pushed her plate away.

"I'm good, Sam," Panda piped up. 

"Lemme whip up my food real quick, then, and I'll come join you guys." He gave Alex's shoulder a gentle squeeze and went back to the stove. 

The hissing pan and quiet chatter from the girls were the only sounds for a few minutes. Which is why Alex heard the solid footsteps moments before someone entered the kitchen. She turned, heart pounding that it could be Dean. But it was John’s eyes she saw, meeting hers briefly, before guiltily skittering away. 

Alex froze. She didn’t take her eyes off him as he went over to stand behind Sam.

Sam glanced at his father. "I was almost done, do you want me to make you one?"

"Er . . . No, thank you, Sam. I'll take care of it. You go enjoy your breakfast with the girls, I was going to take mine into the library. I have some work to catch up on."

Sam tilted his omelette into a plate and set the pan back on the burner, the handle turned toward John as he went to join the girls. His eyes met Alex's, the concern in them obvious. 

Panda looked confused, and anxiously shifted her gaze from one to the other.

Alex almost couldn’t believe the tightening of her stomach just being in the same room as him. She started to get up. “I think I’ll go,” she said softly. 

John spoke then, his voice almost as low. "Please don't, Alex. I didn't mean to put you off your breakfast . . . I can get mine later." 

She sat back down silently, taken aback with no idea what to say to a discomfited John Winchester. 

Tosca looked around at everyone, frowning as if she sensed the change in atmosphere in the room. 

Sam frowned but he didn't seem upset with Alex, more the situation. "Look at me, Alex. He was just going to cook his eggs and leave. All I want is your honest answer: is that too much for you right now?"

She could still feel his hands on her, unconsciously rubbing at her wrist where he’d grabbed her. She felt incredibly stupid sitting on a pillow suddenly, knowing John had seen her. How could she have given him even a hint that she wasn’t strong enough to take a lickin’? She knew her eyes said it all when she looked at Sam, but she didn’t want to seem weak in front of any of them. “I’m fine, Sam,” she answered, her voice as firm as she could force it. “He can get his breakfast.”

Sam took it all in, his face inscrutable. Finally he gave her a small nod, then went over to speak to John, too low for her to catch. She tossed the pillow beneath the table as soon as Sam got up. It couldn't have been more than a few words but John turned and walked back across the kitchen. As he passed her, he looked full in her face for a moment. She met his eyes, glaring, daring him to think she was anything but fine. He didn't say anything, though, he broke away from their staredown eventually and left the way he'd come in. 

Tosca cleared her throat and looked around the table again, her eyes settling on Alex last. “Alex, I’m doing laundry today, I can throw your stuff in with mine if you’ve got anything?” 

Alex blinked and turned back to Tosca, her mind fuzzy, like waking from a fog. “Yeah, sure.” She could hear the surprise and confusion in her own voice, dealing with something as mundane as laundry. “That would be great, thanks Tosca.”

Tosca smiled at her. “I’m doing a load of darks and a load of colors, I can stop by your room and grab your clothes after we eat.” 

“Oh no worries, I can bring it down to you.” She needed something to do to keep her mind off...other things. 

Sam walked by, a plate of eggs in his hand, and touched her shoulder as he passed, squeezing it before releasing her and heading to the library with John’s breakfast. 

“Well, I’m finished.” Tosca set her utensils on her plate and stood up. “Can I get anyone else’s dishes out of the way?” 

“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” Edge stood up too with her plate. 

Panda watched from one to the other, looking dismayed. She poked at the eggs left on her plate with her fork. "Alex?" she asked with uncertainty, darting a look at her.

The pain and worry in Panda’s voice was clear as day. “Yeah?”

"I'm just really glad you're back home. W-with us." 

“Me too, Alex,” Edge added.

“Yeah,” Tosca chimed in. 

“Thank you, guys. I’m glad...I’m glad I came back.”

Panda looked up, the distress in her eyes melting into relief. "Good, that's . . . That's good. It was all wrong without you." 

Alex didn’t know how much she believed that in her heart yet, but she knew Panda believed it in hers. “Thank you, Panda. All of you. That means a lot.”

Tosca grinned shyly. “It’s supposed to be the four of us against the guys...with Alex gone, the balance was off. Now it’s back to rights!” 

Edge swatted at Tosca’s arm. “If any of the guys hear you, you’re gonna be reminded what kind of ‘balance’ they maintain around here!”

Tosca’s face reddened, and she glanced at the doorway, but there were no Winchester men appearing at the moment.

Panda giggled at the two of them before turning back to Alex. "We . . . We weren't allowed to hug you last night. Do you think you're ready for one now, maybe?" She looked hopeful. 

Alex gave a soft smile. “I think so.”

Panda jumped up from her chair and took Alex's hand. "C'mere, then. I need a proper one."

Her sister’s joy was infectious, it was hard not to join in. She let Panda pull her up and, with a laugh, she wrapped her in a hug. 

Edge put her plate back down on the table. “Any room over there?” She asked.

“Room for two more?” Tosca asked, stepping away from the table.

Panda leaned back a little, looking for Alex's permission. 

“Of course,” she said, opening up her arm to embrace her sisters, and Edge stepped into them. 

Tosca stepped into the circle as well, sliding her arms around their waists.

Panda let out a huff of shaky laughter. "This may have been a mistake. Maybe we don't let you go, now that you're back where you belong," she teased. 

With a slight chuckle, Alex pulled back. “You have to let go, I still have…” Anxiety ripped through her as Dean’s face flashed before her eyes. Her smile faded. “I still have things to take care of.”

Some of the worry came back into Panda's slightly teary eyes, but she nodded in an understanding way and gave her a final squeeze. "We'll be here, if you need anything." She looked to the other two for confirmation. 

Tosca let go of her sisters and nodded encouragingly at Alex.

“Come find us if you need us,” Edge said softly.

“I will. Thank you.”

"Well," Sam's pleased murmur came from behind them. "That's a sight I was hoping to see."

Tosca glanced up at him,relaxing when she saw Sam was smiling at them, before walking back to pick up her plate. 

"My good girls. I can wash the plates if you'll stack them by the sink. Alex, why don't you hang back a minute." 

One by one the girls stacked their dishes and slipped out of the room leaving Sam starting the task of cleaning up. Alex lingered at the island. 

He looked over at her, his eyes scanning hers before returning to his task. "Was that as rough as you thought?" 

She shook her head. “No.”

"Good." Sam nodded. "And, how're you doing?" His tone, the way he kept his focus in front of him, suggested he knew what she was thinking about. 

She thought about lying. But she couldn’t, not with Sam. “Terrified.”

He nodded again, slowly. "You know that's where he's been the last couple days.” Alex looked away, guilt flooding her. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that he knew she was talking about Dean. Were her feelings that obvious? They must have been. “Be honest with him. Try, Alex. Now's not the time to hide. He's earned it, and it's your best shot."

She knew Sam was right. What she wanted, needed, from Dean, she couldn’t hide anymore. He deserved to know the full truth. But before she could do any of that, she had to make things right with him. “I will, Sam.”

He looked up at her then, full in her face, love in his eyes. "Okay, kiddo, I trust that you will. I know the two of you will work it out. C'mere." He held his arms open in invitation. 

She fell into them, his warmth and love and calm surrounding her, filling her, making her heart slow, hope washing over her. Sam knew his brother better than anyone. If he believed in them, she could too. 

He held her tightly for a long moment, murmuring into her hair. "You got this. Call me if you need me, though, I mean it." He patted her hip in warning. 

“Yes, sir, I will,” she said, smiling up at him. 

He smiled fondly back. "Good. Go on, then." He released her with a gentle kiss to the top of her head. 

Alex headed back to her room, her body calmed some but her mind still racing. Things with Dean had to go okay. They had to. 

Despite the love of everyone else, he’d been the one who had taken away her pain, saved her, time and time again. He didn’t even know it, and she had no idea how to tell him, but she’d lived so long with him by her side, she didn’t think she could possibly stay without him. 

* * *

She stayed in her room the rest of the day, not wanting to run into any of the Winchesters. It took her until after dinner to gather her nerves to make her way to face Dean. Her heart was racing as she walked down to the garage, her fear building with every step. She had heard what Sam had said, wanted desperately to believe him. But she was still terrified. Terrified that she had hurt him too badly, that he couldn’t forgive her, that he wouldn’t want her to stay, that even if he did, he would be too afraid to ever…

She couldn’t even think about that now. 

She’d made her way to the door without even realizing it, and looked inside. Dean was exactly where he belonged, slid halfway underneath Baby, loosening or tightening something or other, fixing her up right so she’d run smooth for him. 

Inside the pocket of her shirt, Alex felt the crumpled paper of her note in her hand. She’d been holding it like a lifeline, but she let it go, raising her hand to knock quietly in the doorway, hoping he would hear her. Failing to keep the tremble out of her voice, she called quietly, “Dean?” 

Dean stilled, silent a moment. He cleared his throat. “Yeah?” 

She hesitated. She’d thought of a million ways he’d respond, but that wasn’t one of them. She took a tentative step closer. “Can we, um...can we talk?”

He slid himself out from under the Impala, stood, and wiped his hands on a rag, all while carefully avoiding eye contact. “Shoot.” He finally looked at her, face a blank mask.

Still, his anger came through to her clear as day. “Dean, I just...I wanted to-”

He suddenly exploded, “You know what? Save it, I can't . . .” He clenched his fists and turned back to the car. She froze. He was silent a moment, then his voice reached her, so small it didn't even sound like him. “Alex, don't leave.”

It took a moment for her to realize what he’d said. The anger she understood. She’d been so sure that Dean wouldn’t want her there anymore. But that voice...Sam had been right. Her eyes watered and her heart broke from the pain emanating from his every pore. “I don’t...I don’t want to,” she whispered her assurance. 

He turned around, eyes narrowed, and searched her face. He relaxed marginally. “No?”

“I thought...I thought you wouldn’t want me. Dean, I’m so sorry.” She blinked back her tears, taking a step toward him. “Sam told me…” She didn’t know how to do this. “Please...please don’t blame yourself. I didn’t leave because you were too hard on me. I left because  _ I _ was too hard on  _ you _ .  _ For _ you. But then, I hurt you if I stayed and I hurt you when I left and I…” She turned away, feeling completely lost in her own head. “I just can’t win with you.”

Dean's voice held a tremor in it, now. “Alex, you don't have to - I can handle it, I can handle anything, just not you bailing on me.”

“Why?” She turned back, not understanding anything. “Why do you even care? All I do is screw up.”

Dean looked at a loss. “Kid, if I haven't convinced you of how much I care about you, I really did screw up somewhere. You're family. You've more than earned your place here.”

Memories flashed before her eyes and she let out a wry laugh. “Sorry, Dean, but family means something different to me than it does you.” 

Dean looked hurt and confused. “You wanna tell me what that's supposed to mean?”

Alex scoffed. She didn’t want to, not really. “You just, you use that word like it has some magical meaning. Like love and trust and care automatically come with it. But they don’t. The only thing that does is obligation.”

“That's what you think?! When Sam and I talk about family, we're not talking about blood. Obligation. That doesn't exist as far as I'm concerned - learned that the hard way. When I say you're family, I mean you earned that title. Not by being perfect or never screwing up, but by having our backs when it counts. And we have yours. You can't bail on that and think we'll just be able to move on.”

She shoved her hands in her pocket, walking over to the Impala before leaning against the door. “The last thing I had, Dean, was your backs. That’s why I left. All I was doing here was making everyone miserable, getting everyone in trouble, getting myself in trouble, hurting you. Hurting all of you. I thought you would all be better off without me. At least until Christmas was over.”

“When you're going through something like that, is when you lean on your family - or whatever: friends, partners, your people; the people you've decided to give a crap about and who care about what happens to you. We're not going to stop worrying about you just because you're out of our sight. You really thought we were just going to be able to shrug it off and enjoy ourselves? Cause you're wrong. If you were hoping not to hurt us, hate to break it to you, but you messed that up big time.” 

The warm sting of tears pricked at her eyes. “I know. I mean, I didn’t, then. But Sam made it pretty clear.”

“Good.” Dean's voice was grim, like he guessed exactly how that discussion went. “We love you, kid. I don't know how else to get that through your thick skull. How could you not have known what leaving would do to us? Do to me? What the hell is going on with you?” Dean looked equal parts angry, hurt, and at a loss. 

Alex bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the floor. She stared at the drops of oil on the concrete until they blurred into one. “I don’t know,” she muttered. 

Dean scoffed in frustration. “Yeah, I don't think that's gonna cut it here, sweetheart. I'm trying to help you, you gotta give me something to work with.”

The anger that filled her was swift. “Help me what, Dean?” she yelled. “Change the past? Bring my parents back? Make it so I don’t feel like I’m betraying their last words to me every time I pick up a fucking ornament or see a goddamn elf or string popcorn on a fucking Christmas tree? Tell me, how exactly are you gonna do that? You and Sam seem to think you can fix this like it’s beheading some vampire, but you can’t!”

Dean raised his voice, “I didn't say I was gonna fix it! Like I've got some magic wand or a time machine I can just pull out of my ass. I didn't know any of that, and if I did maybe I could have helped make some of it a little easier, instead of being stuck trying to play catch up with no idea what the hell was going on!”

“Well you aren’t entitled to know every little fucking thing about me, are you?” The words were harsh, coming from a place deep down inside her that even she didn’t understand. A place that desperately wanted a bond with Dean so deep that he, and only he, would be entitled to  _ exactly _ that. A place that, once upon an imaginary time, had given him exactly that. 

She wondered if a part of him knew that as well because his voice shook, with anger and hurt. “Well, I guess not. You want to tell me why you came in here, besides to rub it in my face that you don't consider us family and that I've screwed up with you at every turn? I already figured that out, thanks.”

Alex froze, panic shooting through her. Her head spun with the echo of his words and the world shifting on its axis. No. No this wasn’t happening. He’d wanted her to stay. Wanted her to confide in him, trust him. And she wanted it, more than anything in the world, so why…?

“I came because...I had to. I needed to know you were okay. That you…” Her breath hitched, her heart starting to race. “That you wanted me. I came because I hurt you and I deserve…” She found herself in sudden tears, crumbling to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, against the Impala. “I can’t lose you, Dean. Not you. I can’t.”

Dean was there with her on the floor in an instant, his hands on her shoulders. “Hey, hey! Are you kidding me? Of course I want you. You want to get rid of me, you're gonna have to try a lot harder than that.” He pulled her into his arms and murmured into her hair, “You know, for someone who wants to keep denying she's part of this family, you've certainly got the self loathing down. Damnit, kid, you're gonna give me whiplash.” 

Alex chuckled slightly and rested her head on his shoulder, just breathing him in for a moment. His strong arms around her, holding her soft and safe. His thick musk mixed with motor oil filling her senses, making her dizzy with need. Sitting there, a dull ache reawakening in her backside against the hard concrete, she wondered how she’d ever thought of leaving. “You’re right, of course,” she admitted quietly, staring at a motorcycle across the way. “I shouldn’t have left. Sam said…” She needed to know. She needed to understand the pain she’d caused him. “Sam said you were a mess.”

Dean sounded gruff, like he was trying to downplay it, but there was an edge there that showed how deeply it had cut him. “Well, yeah. I thought it was my fault. I thought if I'd done a better job you wouldn't have felt the need to leave. If I hadn't made you take that soaping, maybe, or I'd figured out how to fix it when I realized it was worse for you than I planned. Plus, I was worried about you. And that's not meant to be insulting; I was already worried about you. Hell, part of me is worrying about you guys all the time. People I care about . . . They aren't known for living long and happy lives. But yeah, mostly that you didn't feel like you had a reason to stick it out, and the fact that I'd let you down. That maybe if I'd listened, or pushed you to talk about it instead of just hurting you . . .”

Hurting her. Her stomach twisted with his words. Because he’d always understood her better than anyone and the thought of him doubting that was terrifying. “You want the truth, Dean? There will probably be times when I run from a spanking from Sam. But I’d never run from yours. I promise.” She could feel her cheeks heating up and as much as she could try to pretend it was from his flannel, she knew it wasn’t. “The truth is, I’m actually a helluva lot more scared that you won’t punish me again than that you will.”

He pulled her away gently so he could see her. “It wasn't too . . . I don't want to hurt you. And I know I did, I mean, your butt; your hands, and . . . all . . . but it's only cause I thought I was helping you. I don't want to guess wrong.”

“Ask Sam, Dean,” she said with a small smile. “I’m pretty good at self-preservation. I’m not gonna let you hurt me if I don’t think I deserve it.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “There's a joke here I'm not getting, but I'll be sure to ask him - anything to hear about you getting the better of Sam. Just, you . . . you promise me, Alexandra?” He tilted his head down, giving her a serious look. 

She averted her gaze. It was easier to talk about, not staring into the intensity of his eyes. “I should hate it, you know. Sam, he’s...he’s so much like my dad was. No nonsense; feel the pain you caused, feel the shame for causing it. It’s miserable really, I mean, no one wants to be spanked by their dad, but that’s life, right? There’s consequences and when someone cares enough about you to help you make things right…” She looked at him. His face had taken on a rueful look and he nodded with the air of someone who understood all too well.

But he didn’t understand everything. And how could he? How could she tell him everything she felt when she didn’t even understand it herself? “It’s different with you though. I don’t...I don’t know why. I can’t explain it. I just know...as much as I’d run from Sam giving me what I need, I’d chase you to get it.”

He looked thoughtful for a second, trying to get everything she’d said and everything she hadn't been able to. He spoke haltingly. “Sometimes, you need me to help you feel the hurt you caused, and I think for you, you want to know that someone cares enough to show you.”

Alex nodded. “And it’s like, I know you’re not judging me. Because chances are if you were in my shoes, you’d have made the same choices. And yeah, maybe they weren’t the best, but I feel like, usually you understand. And maybe, you give me what you know you would’ve needed. Or at least knew you deserved. That’s why...that’s why you don’t guess wrong. Because I trust you’d never give me more than you could or should have taken. And...I want to prove to you that I can too.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, grinning, slightly sheepish at the accuracy of her statements. “As long as it's something you feel you need, as long as it means care, and concern, and . . . well, love -  _ And _ as long as you promise to tell me the moment it's not, then I can do that for you, kid. I'm glad to, because I do understand.”

She breathed out a sigh of relief. It was somewhat short lived though. Because it was very clear what happened next. “So…”

He looked at her levelly. “So. You already took it from Sam, but you still feel like you're owed something from me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dean closed his eyes briefly, and as he opened them Alex saw him transform before her eyes. Gone were the worried wrinkles and the hunched shoulders and the doubt that had been there since she walked into the room. Determination replaced uncertainty in his eyes. Confidence washed over him.

Alex shuddered under it all.

“You know I'll give you what you need.” He stood and held a hand out to her. “C’mere.”

She took his hand, hoping he didn’t feel the trembling running through her veins. It was far from fear. Anticipation and relief, warm and welcome, surged through her as he guided her up off the floor. 

He turned her to face him and pinned her with a pointed look. “But first, what I need from you, Missy, is that promise, that you'll have my back by not letting me hurt you. I haven't heard it yet, and we're not going any further till I have it.”

She swallowed under his stare. “I promise, Dean, you have my word.”

“Thank you.” And with her promise secured, his last reservation disappeared. He didn't hesitate before moving on. “I want you to sum up for me why you're getting this punishment. Especially because Sam already spanked you, I want to hear in your words why we’re here.”

No amount of dominance, though, would stop Alex from balking that request. “Ugh, Dean, seriously?” She couldn’t help it, it just came out. He knew how much she hated this. 

“Tough. You know very well this is part of it. You wanna drag it out by standing here whining about it, or do you want to get it over with?” He couldn't hide his smirk. He knew. 

Honestly, she didn’t want either of those options. He was right, she didn’t want to drag out the start. But she wasn’t so sure about getting it over with either. “Sam spanked me for running, endangering myself, and selfishly causing everybody worry and pain.” But she closed her eyes. Because none of that was why she was here. 

He touched her cheek and waited for her to open her eyes. “Right, that's why  _ Sam _ spanked you - that stuff should already be taken care of; done. I'm asking why you're  _ here _ . With me. Getting this spanking. I want to hear what it is you still feel like you need to pay for.”

Alex felt his touch, soft and caring, and it should have made her feel loved, but his demand just made her angry. The only way he couldn’t know already was if he didn’t truly care. Maybe she’d been wrong about all of this. “You know what?” She pulled away and turned to go. “Just forget it.”

He took hold of her arm and pulled her back around to the hood of the car. “Excuse me? Yeah I don't think so; I guess we'll just start with the attitude.” He bent her over the front of the impala while continuing. “This ain't even the first time you've disrespected me since you came in here, and I don't appreciate it.”

She looked back at him as he pressed her into the cold metal. “Dean, stop!”

“Oh, no, Miss Alex, it's too late for that; we're just getting started. Hands on the hood; don't move ‘em till I release you.”

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself, hitching up on her elbows then pushing onto her hands. Her muscles tensed.

He gave her a solid smack to the very center of her bottom and just rested his hand there for a second. She closed her eyes, sucking in a breath as adrenaline rushed through her.

He raised his hand and gave her a flurry of brisk swats, warming her up and reawakening the sting from the night before. He stopped again with his hand hovering there.

“You came to me.”  **_*smack*_ ** “Agreed to submit to my discipline.”  **_*smack*_ ** “Then you want to get defiant with me.”  **_*smack*_ ** “Because you disapprove of my methods?”  **_*smack*_ ** “That's not the way it works, Alex.”

She winced with every spank, her hands curling into fists to keep position, but she kept her voice strong. “How does it work then, Dean? I spill my heart to you but you keep everything inside? Fine. You want me to tell you why I’m here?”

He was quiet a second. “Yes, I want to hear you say it out loud.”

“Fine! I’m here because of the sound of your voice when you came to pick me up from John. I’m here for the look I know was in your eye when you saw me safe even if I couldn’t bring myself to see it. I’m here for not trusting you, for making you doubt yourself, for betraying everything I want our relationship to be.” She wiped away her tears before they fell, got up off the hood and turned to him. “But most of all, I’m here for the pain Sam tells me you’ve bottled up inside but are too afraid to let me see, but please, Dean.” She was begging him because she needed this more than anything. “At least let me feel it. Please. I can’t do better unless I know.”

His voice was shaking when he finally spoke. “If you're looking for a denial of any of it, I can't give you that.”

“Dean, just stop it! I don’t want a denial, I want the truth! The whole truth. Please.”

“Damn it, Alex! It broke me when I thought you'd left for good; When I thought that I’d screwed up so bad, betrayed you to the point where you thought you had to leave - would  _ rather _ leave than tell me what was wrong. You couldn't trust me enough to let me in, allow me to be there for you. You know enough from what you said, and whatever Sam told you, to know you gutted me and I get you want to pay for that, feel like you have to take some of what you made me go through.” 

“Some?” Her stomach twisted. Everything inside her screamed that she needed his pain to be her pain. “All of it, Dean. I deserve all of it.”

He searched her face solemnly. There was still a tremor in his voice, but his resolve was back in full force. “I can't be cruel to you, Alex, you know that. I said I'd do my best to give you what you need, and I will.” He reached for his belt buckle, and her heart jumped in her chest.

But she didn’t say a word. She simply turned back around, placing her palms flat on the hood. 

He laid his folded belt on the car next to her. “Wait there.” His footsteps clapped along the cement floor as he walked around the impala. She looked up to see him pop the trunk, the squeak ringing in her ears. 

With Dean hidden from view, she lowered her gaze to find herself staring at the belt, but that wasn’t her focus. She trained her ears to track Dean’s every sound, trying to figure out what he could possibly be getting. A razor strop? A paddle they kept hidden? Leather gloves? A knife for her to cut a switch? Her head started to spin with possibilities. 

Then, the trunk slammed shut and time stood still. It probably took Dean no more than a second or two to make his way back to her side, but it felt like an hour. Butterflies danced in her belly. The skin on her ass started to crawl. The only thing going through her mind was the pain about to envelope her body.    


A swish and a dull thwack woke her from her thoughts as a swing of leather sliced right through her clothing like it wasn't there. She gritted her teeth, her skin lit on fire already and she was almost certain that Dean had barely used any force behind it. Her legs stiffened waiting for the next blow. 

But it didn’t come. Instead, Dean set the implement down on the hood next to his belt. It was a heavy leather strop. “My dad used to use this on me when I really fucked up. Hurts like hell, right? You'll feel it for days.”

A shiver chased up her spine but she'd barely had time to process it when something else whistled through the air, snapping against her rump. The burn was immediate and fierce and she couldn’t hold back a cry. Dean set one hand on her back, and with the other, reached over to lay a piece of thin bungee cord in front of her beside the other implements. 

“Did...did your father use that on you too?” she asked. 

“Once.” It was clearly all Dean was planning to say on the subject, either the transgression too shameful, the experience too painful, or both, for him to want to relive. 

Alex’s imagination ran wild. 

He picked his belt back up and lifted his hand away. “I expect you to accept this part of your punishment in silence; you deserve this, and we're just getting started.”

Heat rose in her skin and she tried to steady her breath. “Yessir,” she whispered. 

He brought the belt down, stinging even over her clothes, but it was a welcome ache, far less painful than the bungee, more familiar, reminding her that Dean was there to take care of her, not abuse her. He swung the belt again, settling into an easy pace, methodically covering her bottom. 

When he got to her sitspots, he started back at the top and traveled downward a second time, his strokes slightly harder, or maybe it just hurt more on the second pass. 

The third time around, his strikes were more random, but he still kept the same rhythm, holding back the full use of his strength. Then he stopped, and she could hear the slide of leather on denim and the clink of metal as he threaded his belt back into his jeans. 

She took the moment to catch her breath, knowing that she’d only gotten through the easy part, the strop and the bungee still sat there, waiting to teach her what his pain truly felt like. But she couldn’t focus on that now. Instead she closed her eyes and listened. She could hear Dean's short, shallow breaths, though she doubted it had been caused by the exertion of the whipping. She could hear the rustle of his flannel as he readied for her next punishment. She pushed away her fear, she didn’t deserve it. She’d asked for this. Wanted to feel it, needed to feel it. She stilled everything inside her and waited. 

He tapped her on the back. “Up.”

She slowly stood, rubbing the stiffness from her arms before dropping them to her side, trying not to fidget as her entire body tingled with anticipation. 

Dean placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. She blinked up at him, watching him carefully as he leaned in close to reach around her and grab something off the hood of the Impala. She prayed it wasn’t the bungee. 

Once he had it, he turned, guiding her by the shoulder a few feet away to a low bench he'd been using for his tools. She glanced down to see the cord in his hand and she froze. She looked up at him, chin trembling. “Dean?”

He looked at her, taking everything in, and then he met her eyes. “I know you can handle this. You're going to stand up on the bench. Here.” He offered her his arm for support. Her legs shook, but she took it and stepped up. The cord terrified her. But he had taken it once, knew what it could do. And he’d been terrified when she had run.  Sam had told her as much.  If this was what he felt she deserved for that, she would accept it.

“Hold onto me. I won't let you fall, but try to keep still. You don't have to stay quiet for this.”

Trying desperately to trust him, she grabbed hold of his left arm. The bench seemed sturdy enough but it was narrow. One wrong step and she’d slide right off, if Dean didn’t catch her. 

He wrapped his arm around her waist, cinching her to him. She hated that he could feel her trembling in his grasp, that he would think she was too weak to take what she knew she deserved. But her biggest fear was that she would scare him away from doing what he needed to do. “It’s okay,” she whispered in his ear. “I promise.”

She felt him tense, heard the sharp whistle and felt the line of cold fire slice across her bare calves. 

For just a second there was no air. Then she gasped, crying out in pain, burying her head in Dean’s shoulder. She grasped hold of him tighter than she ever thought she could. 

He gave her a second, holding her steady through it. “It made you feel like you couldn't breathe, from the shock and pain of it? If you wanted to know what it was like, going in to check on you and you were - just gone, that's what it was like.”

She nodded into his shoulder, tears soaking into his flannel. “I’m sorry.”

He swung the cord again, connecting with her lower thighs. “Finding your things were gone.”

Squirming in his arms, her yell and muttered apologies were muffled by the fabric of his clothes, but she knew he could feel it vibrate through him. 

She could feel his ragged exhale right before he brought it down again just below the hem of her skirt. “Realizing you hadn't left any explanation or way to find you.”

She recoiled from the blow without thought, nearly falling, her body trying to escape the stinging pain that made her want to just crawl out of her skin. But instead of the world dropping out from under her, Dean kept her in his clutch, holding her strong, helping her through it. And she let him. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed, burying herself even deeper in his embrace. She couldn’t help but think of the note she’d nearly left him, the one sitting crumpled in her pocket between them. She shouldn’t have been so afraid. “I’m so sorry, I should have...I should have trusted you.”

He just held her for a long moment. He reached around her with his right hand, tucked the edge of her skirt into the waistband, and slid her underwear down til they fell around her ankles. She winced as he lowered them, elastic brushing up against the thin welts forming on her legs. Cold air hit her bare skin.

“Step out and kick them off the bench.”

A flush crept up her cheeks as she did as she was told. 

He brought the cord down on her upper thighs. Giving her only a brief pause he snapped it twice more. 

He was trembling now and his voice was hoarse. “Knowing that you were out there alone and hurting because I'd failed you.”

“You didn’t,” Alex cried, her heart shattering into a thousand pieces. She raised her head from his shoulder. How could she have let him believe that for even a second. “You didn’t fail me, I failed you.”

“Yeah, kid, have you met me? Did you think there was ever a chance I wasn't going to be blaming myself for all of this? The hits just kept coming.” He looked into her tear-streaked face and she could see that he had one falling down his cheek.

She nodded, an unnerving stillness rushing over her. She wanted more than anything not to see the anguish in his eyes, but something inside her wouldn’t let her look away. She knew she wasn’t responsible for his insecurities. But it was still her fault.  _ The hits just kept coming. _ “Show me,” she breathed. 

His voice was firm, but there was no rebuke in it. He understood. “Just hold on to me.”

He adjusted his grip on her and gave her five slow strokes to her bottom, making sure none overlapped. The cord bit into her, she could feel tiny, angry, welts rising like bees attacking. Her body flinched with every lash. She gasped for air, her lungs constricting and spots danced before her eyes. Nausea twisted her stomach and she clutched Dean's shirt in her fists. 

Before she could register it was done, Dean dropped the cord, picked her up completely, and just held her to him as she cried into his shoulder. The pain had been nearly unbearable. When she'd calmed some, he carried her over to one corner of the garage and carefully set her down, still holding her steady. 

“You get a break after that, kid. Just lean against the wall and breathe.”

Alex pressed her forehead against the cool cement, the roughness of the wall barely registering. Time seemed to stop, her thoughts spinning, her focus no longer on her own pain, but his. She pulled her arms in close, hugging herself. Every ache, every throb she knew he’d felt too, in his body, his heart, his soul. She could have caused him no more pain than if she’d whipped him herself. He no doubt had thought he’d deserved it. 

She took a deep, raw breath and closed her eyes. The smell of gas and oil and metal in the darkness filled her senses. This is where Dean had hid from her. Hid from his own demons. It’s where he felt safest. She took it all in, letting his everything just sit inside her. And she knew she had so much more coming. 

After several minutes, she felt his gentle touch as he cupped the back of her neck. He moved his hand down to her shoulder. “Come on.”

Her arms still crossed protectively around her body, dragging her feet even though she knew she shouldn’t, she fought back the dread and fear roaring back to life inside her, and she let Dean guide her. Whatever was next, she had earned it. 

He took her back to the impala. Only the strop was left curled on the hood. Dean stopped and pulled his flannel shirt off leaving him in his short sleeved tee. “I just want you to lay your  chest on the hood.”

Taking a breath she bent over the car, curling her arms underneath her cheek. She stared out at the door, not really seeing the room, her mind a million miles away.

He placed a hand on her head and slid his partially folded flannel under her face. “Here . Hold onto that.” 

Her head was spinning, but she took hold of it immediately, breathing in his scent. It centered her, brought her straight back to why she was there. 

She heard him pick up the strop at the same time as she felt him rub the small of her back before resting his hand there. She could hear the heavy beat of her heart echo against the metal of the hood. It seemed to be counting each and every dreadful second of silence as she waited for the fire to erupt across her backside.

He tapped the strop against the fullest curve of her bottom and then let it fly. She lost her breath, her hips slamming into the car’s grill, and she quickly bit Dean’s flannel between her teeth. The pain was intense, especially where the stroke overlapped some of the welts left behind by the cord, and it took everything to hold in her cries. But she couldn’t lose it yet, they had only just begun. 

The second and third strokes fell directly above and below the first. The scorching heat that spread with every lash was nothing compared to the deep throb penetrating her muscles. He hadn't been exaggerating, she was going to feel this for days and she still felt like he was holding back.

The strap bit into her thighs for the first time, lighting up more welts and she screamed. Her legs started to tremble and she was afraid her knees would give way. She wasn’t sure how much more she could stand.

“I want you to be able to trust me, Alex. I want to be able to trust you, too.”

“Yes, sir,” she breathed and her legs stilled, her tears slowed. Just hearing his voice grounded her, gave her the strength to go on. To trust him. To prove that he could trust her. 

The next stroke seared across the top of her bottom, and this time he wasn't holding back. The next two came closer behind before he gave her another breather. She couldn't stop her screams, but they weren’t cries for him to stop, merely a release of the pain, letting her take the next one. 

Dean's voice had a tremor in it when he spoke again. “You shut me out. And then you left. How the hell is that supposed to make me feel, Alex? Tell me again how you were doing it for me.” 

“I thought…” She thought he’d be better off without her. She hadn’t let herself believe that she could trust him. “I was wrong. So wrong.” She wiped her tears as even more fell. “I’m sorry. Please, Dean.”

He gave her three more lashes painting the center of her bottom down to her sitspots. 

“Ahhh!” she howled, her body fighting against his hand to get away while her brain begged her over and over again to stay. 

He paused again breathing hard, his next words low, almost inaudible. “You wanted to see? I know it's different for you, but family means everything to me. Losing family - it's the worst thing there is. And I take the blame, earned or not. That's how I'm wired.”

Alex shook her head, sobbing, her body going still, but she said nothing. He was wrong of course, but they both had their demons and one whipping wasn’t going to heal either of them of a lifetime of pain. It was something to work towards, though. To stay and work towards. 

“So yeah. It hurt.” He pressed his hand deep into her back and delivered a blistering stroke to her upper thighs. “And I did feel betrayed.” Again, the strop fell, cutting slightly across the last strike. She had no fight in her left but to lie there. No voice in her left but to weep in anguish. “But mostly I just wish you had trusted me enough to talk to me; let me in. You're worth every bit of it, kid, but can you meet me halfway here? Help me understand you like you say you want me to.”

She tried to catch her breath, forced shallow with the excruciating pain. She let his words sit in her ears until she could hear them, and then let them sink inside her head until she could listen. Dean was the last person in the world she wanted to hide herself from. The one person she wanted to be able to trust with her greatest weaknesses. She still wasn’t sure she could tell him everything. There were some things about her life she truly didn’t think he should know. But she could meet him halfway. 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice raw. “I want to.”

He tossed the strop onto the hood and pulled her up and into his arms. “Okay.” Her legs nearly gave way and her sobs of relief echoed through the garage. His breath hitched as he held her even closer, turning to lean back against Baby so he could support her. He kissed her damp forehead and brushed his fingers through her hair. “Okay. I want that, too.” 

“I’m sorry,” Alex cried in the warmth and safety of his arms. She never wanted to leave them. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“I know, kid. I know. We're good.” He gave a little tug and pulled the edge of her skirt from her waistband, letting it fall back into place. “I just wish I could make you feel, let you see, how much you're cared for here; how much you mean to me. ” 

“I feel it,” she said, sniffling into his t-shirt with a wet laugh. “I think I’ll feel it for a while.”

Dean's short laugh sounded more like a sob. “How screwed up does that make me that I know exactly what you mean?” He pressed her head into his chest like he just wanted to keep her there next to his heart and kissed her again. “I - I love you, Alex. You don't have to ask for an ass whooping to hear it. Just stick around, I'll let you know as often as you need.”

“That might be a lot,” Alex admitted. “It’s...it’s been a while.”

“That's okay. I'll get better at sayin’ it.” He pulled back a little and wiped some tears from her cheek. “How about we get you off your feet, hmm?”

She sniffed, wiping her nose. She looked toward the door. “I...I can’t go out there, not yet.”

“Naw, that's alright, C'mere.” He held her with one arm around her shoulders and guided her around the Impala, opening the back door. “Go ahead and get comfortable. I'll go around.”

Every move hurt, even the soft rayon of her skirt against her broken skin chafed horribly. She climbed carefully into the back seat, resting on her side. Dean closed the door after her, and a moment later he was scooting in to sit down next to her. She laid her head on his lap and he began to trail gentle fingers through her hair. 

Closing her eyes, she lay in the darkness, listening to him breathing, feeling the care in his touch, the gentle love that she remembered from so long ago. And suddenly, telling him wasn’t so scary anymore. 

“My parents,” she said softly, “loved Christmas more than anything.” She heard the sharp intake of breath, felt the slight stutter of his fingers’ rhythm on her scalp and knew he was listening intently for her next words. “We would go to antique shops, all year long, and collect the most beautiful Christmas figurines and ornaments. I remember every year we’d hang the stockings by the fireplace, decorate the mantel with every precious trinket we’d collected over the year, and fill the house with the rest. Twelve years worth at the end. We were supposed to have twelve days decorating, one day for every year.” She paused, her heart aching, tears clinging to her lashes. “They went on a hunt, when I was thirteen. Two weeks before Christmas. The last thing they said to me...don’t decorate without us.” It was easier to say out loud the second time. “And I haven’t. I couldn’t.”

Dean was silent for a long moment, continuing to comb his trembling fingers through her hair, before stilling his movements and looking down at her. His voice was thick with emotion. “I'm so sorry, kid. I know - well at least with me - it feels like nothing can fix it .  And talking about it just means other people have to be miserable too, so keeping it to yourself seems like it makes the most sense. That's wrong, though. Being able to talk about it does make it better than bottling it up and trying to carry it on your own.”

“Yeah. Sam seemed to think so too.”

He gave a weak attempt at a chuckle. “Still not so sure?”

She thought for a moment. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Doesn’t change anything. They’re still gone. Their last words don’t suddenly become meaningless. I still ruin the Christmas of everyone around me because just seeing…” Her throat welled up. 

“I hear ya, kiddo, and I get it, believe me. Sam had to push me to let him in for a long time - still does, old habits die hard - but you have to give it a chance. It's not a quick fix; nothing is for something that broke you that bad. This was step one. You might not see it helping for a while, but I promise: having people by your side in Hell is better than trying to walk through it all by yourself. You'll see it eventually. It can't be any worse.” He went back to caressing her head. 

“Thank you, Dean. For everything.”

“Any time, Alex. We'll figure out a way to make the next few days easier for everybody. But if you just need to go somewhere, get away, come find me. We'll go running -” He saw her reflexive grimace and backpedaled, “or head to the bar, shoot pool for a few hours, whatever you want.”

She looked up at him, with a surprised smirk. “You’d really do that for me? Last time we were in a bar together you were dragging me out.”

He threw his head back, letting himself laugh at the reference. When he looked back to her his eyes were sparkling. “You'll find things work out a little differently when you have permission.” He sobered slightly. “And of course I would. Haven't you been paying attention?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, closing her eyes again, content for the first time in a long time despite the throbbing in her ass. 

Dean let out a relieved exhale, his voice deep and soothing. “Sleep if you can, you earned it after that. I think I'll close my eyes, too, didn't sleep too well the last couple nights.”

“M’sorry,” she murmured, but she’d already started to drift off. 

His only response was to rest his hand lightly on the back of her head, as much to reassure her as to reassure himself that she was there and she was alright as he leaned his head back, his eyes slowly closing. 

* * *

Her ass was on fire, she made a pained noise and the combination of that and the movement was enough to wake her. She felt him lower her down into the softness of her blankets and, half asleep, she curled herself around her pillow. Dean's hushed voice reached her. “Sorry, I didn't mean to jostle you, sweetheart, I was just putting you to bed.” His hands were still on her, arranging her into a more comfortable position on her stomach, settling the covers over her. He ran his hand through her hair, soothingly. 

“Ev’body see?” she mumbled, brow furrowed with concern. 

Dean huffed in fond amusement. “No, kiddo. Nobody saw. Your dignity is intact.”

“Don’t know ‘bout that,” she said, waking up slightly. She rolled back over on her side and looked up at him. “You going?”

“I - I was gonna so you could sleep, but I could stay . . . Unless -”

Her heart literally ached at the thought of him leaving her. “Please, don’t go.”

He slid onto the bed next to her. “Alright. Okay, I won't.” He reached around with one arm and drew her closer.

Alex curled up and closed her eyes. The throbbing in her ass was ever present, beating to the rhythm of her heart. She held onto it like a promise. Because there was something inside her that wouldn’t let go, that couldn’t even bear the thought of being without him right now. All at the same time, the depth of her need both terrified her and made her feel the safest she had in a long time. “Dean, I…” she tried, but she couldn’t finish. She could feel a tear trickling down her cheek. 

His tone was full of concern. “Hey, hey, what is it, Alex? Talk to me.”

She wanted to, desperately, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t tell him the truth anymore now than she could have when she’d written it before she’d left. But despite her heart pounding in her throat, the nausea rising in her chest, she knew she couldn’t lie to him anymore either. And through the echo chamber of the mattress, she heard the sound of crumpled paper, the letter she’d written him, shifting in her pocket. Her hand slipped inside, feeling where she’d put it, still crumpled up from the night she’d run. Before she could stop herself, she pulled it out. 

“What's that?” 

“You said...I didn’t leave an explanation. I wrote one though. I just couldn’t…” She closed her eyes and held it out for him. The words would speak for themselves. 

He gently took it from her and she heard a rustling as he unfolded it, felt him lean over to take advantage of the sliver of light coming from the hallway to read it. She remembered every word she’d written, like she was reading along with him. 

_ Dear Dean, _

_ You can’t possibly imagine how much I want to stay. Or understand how much I need to go. _

_ I’ve hurt you all so much. Getting the girls in trouble. Forcing you and Sam to punish me when I know how much you hate to. Stealing from all of you the Christmas you deserve. The Christmas everyone deserves. A Christmas filled with joy with your family.  _

_ I can’t have that. But I have no right to take it from you.  _

_ John reminded me of that.  _

_ And I love you too much to... _

_ I love you... _

_...too much. _

  
  


He was silent for what seemed an eternity. 

Her heart was racing, waiting. She tried not to move a muscle, tried not to let him know she was so terrified she could barely breathe. 

Finally, she heard him very carefully fold the letter back up. His arm settled back around her. “I -”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she said, her voice heavy with defeat. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“Now, hang on. I'm still wrapping my head around it, how could you possibly understand? When . . . No. Let's get one thing straight here: nothing on this piece of paper changes my opinion of you. You feel like your heart's about to beat right outta your chest. Breathe. When you can, why don't you explain this to me.”

“There’s…” He’d said it himself. His opinion hadn’t changed. “There’s nothing to explain. I’m like a sister to you, and that’s all…” She tried not to choke on the words. “...all I’ll be and...it’s okay. I understand.”

“ _ That's all? _ ” She could feel the sudden tension in his body beside her; his arm around her. “I don't want to hurt you, Alex. I'm sorry - not for caring for you with everything I've got, but that it's not enough.”

“You’re mad. I get it.” She could try to feign nonchalance while her heart broke inside. Because she knew he was thinking she wanted different than she did. But the words to say what she  _ did _ want were so much harder than just denying herself even the possibility. “There’s four of us, and it wouldn’t be fair for things to be different with me, even if you wanted, which you don’t.” She stopped. Now she was just rambling like Sam. 

“Not fair? I don't . . . Alex, you're not making sense. And I'm not mad.” He sighed. “Listen. It's just you and me here. I've had enough of the lying and hiding between us, haven't you? You chose to show this to me; you can't just clam up now. Please.” 

He was right. But how could she possibly tell him how she truly felt, what she truly wanted? “I don’t know how to explain it. I just want more. And I don’t mean like your girlfriend because I don’t want that responsibility and I’m sure you don’t either, but I don’t want to be your sister, and I know it’s selfish, and I know it’s crazy-“ and she knew her frantic speech wasn’t fooling either of them.

He turned so he could face her, pressed his free hand palm out into her chest to stop her flow of words. “Stop. Look at me, Alex.”

Her breath caught in her throat at the feel of his hand, the power in his voice. She closed her lips and met his gaze. 

“You're not crazy; I don't appreciate you talking about yourself that way. Now calm down. We just got done having a talk about trusting each other. You said you'd meet me halfway. You know I always do my best to give you what you need, so give me a chance here. You don't want to be my sister; you don't want to be my girlfriend. What then? See if you can find a way to explain it.”

“I want…” She could feel the heat in her cheeks as images ran through her mind. “I want that look in your eyes, dark with command. I want that sound in your voice, steeped with control.” She lowered her gaze to the bed, her heart picking up speed. “I want your discipline, with...with no boundaries. At least boundaries necessary for a...a sister. And I want everyone to know that I answer to you, and behind closed doors, anything…” She tried to bring herself to look at him, but she couldn’t. She could barely get herself to whisper the words she most wanted. “I want to be your submissive.”

He sat back against the headboard slowly. His arm tightened around her a little and he just sat for awhile digesting her words. “Thank you, first of all, for being brave enough to tell me. Can you . . . What would that mean? All the time?” 

A tiny sense of relief flowed through her in his embrace, but her bravery only went so far. She nodded, unable to find her voice.

“I . . . I don't want to squash the parts of you that I love the most. Can you help me picture it?”

She could picture it clear as day, but first… “What...what parts do you love the most?”

“Well, all of you. The parts that make you, you. Your strength, your independence, your fire. Even your defiance - though I won't let you get away with it when it's directed at me getting you to do what you're supposed to.”

She looked up at him, a mischievous smile on her lips. “That’s what it looks like. I’m not looking to change who I am. Or who you are. I just want to be able to trust it.  I think it would make me feel safer. All of this would. More...settled. Like I don’t need to worry all the time about whether I really belong here. I’d only need to look at you, to know that I do.  And you won’t let me get away with anything. And I want you to not second guess yourself.”

He smiled at her fondly and chuckled. “Not second guessing myself? That doesn't sound like me. As for the rest . . . " he trailed off, his expression turning thoughtful and serious. When he spoke, his voice was, as well. "I'll always be here for you, Alex - no matter what. And you'll always belong. Right here.” He rubbed her shoulder. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“I don’t know how long,” she said softly. “It just kind of crept up on me. But, the other day; my butt was burning like today and that foul taste of soap was on my tongue and the fierce reprimand was on your lips, but you held me in your arms like I was the most precious…” She looked up at him, eyes shining. “That’s when I knew for sure. I wanted that forever. I know it must not make any sense.”

Dean looked away and tried to dash the tears from his eyes without her seeing. “I - I thought I'd made a terrible mistake. Thought I betrayed your trust in me; pushed you too far.” He touched her face gently. “Can you help me see why you need it; how it's different from what we have now? I don't want to lose this - you.”

“I don’t know exactly. But it feels different. It feels like permission to let go, to want it, to ask for it. With Sam, I don’t want it. I don’t seek it. I’ll take it if I deserve it, but I also feel guilty. Like I’m forcing him to do something he doesn’t want to have to do. He didn’t ask to have a defiant sister with issues. As a submissive, that guilt is gone. You’ve accepted this. Me. For what I am. I don’t have to worry anymore. And neither do you.”

“You know we accept you . . .” his protest sounded almost automatic. For another long moment he was quiet, deep in thought. He started again. "I'm gonna ask you to do something for me. It might be hard, but I think it's important. I'm asking you to trust me enough to hold that thought until after Christmas. This ain't a 'no' Alex, and it isn't a brush off, I promise.  I just can’t give you a yes, either. We'll talk about it." 

Inside, the knot that had been unraveling tightened again, she felt her heart aching once more, but she put on a smile for him. “Yeah, sure. Of course. I wouldn’t…” She fought back her tears. She’d known it wouldn’t be an easy decision. She barely had any hope he’d say yes. But he hadn’t said no either, not yet. Now she’d just have to wait. Knowing he knew what she wanted. Needed. She didn’t have a choice. “I wouldn’t want to mess up Christmas any more...for anyone.” 

"Alex." His voice held the rumble of his disapproval. "That's not it, please don't. This isn't something I can just decide to try on a whim. This is gonna affect you and the repercussions are gonna go beyond you 'n me and I haveta think. And you need some time to recover from everything you've been through the past couple weeks. I asked you to trust me. Can you do that? Can you try?" He sounded earnest, almost pleading. 

“Yeah,” she answered, mustering her courage. After all, that was everything she was asking for, wasn’t it? “I can trust you.”

He pulled her in tighter, kissing her hair. She fell as well as heard his low rumble. “That's my girl.”

She felt herself surrounded by his arms, his scent, his care. And, despite the uncertainty, with all that holding her still wounded heart together, she couldn’t help but drift off to sleep. 


	11. 2 days ‘til Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Alex here. Panda and I apologize for the extreme lateness of the chapter. Because of the necessary changes, we needed to write a whole brand new chapter between the last one and the next one, and with the pandemic, my mental health is a disaster and making writing very difficult. But we got it done! It’s short, a bridge, if you will, between the important things, but we hope you like it and we thank you for your patience. We hope you are all doing okay. <3
> 
> Edit: Tosca has added a section to this chapter for her character. Hope you guys go back and read it!

* * *

They’d let Alex sleep in the next morning. Frankly, Sam had wished he’d had the opportunity to also. He was exhausted. The days of worry had finally caught up with him and if he didn’t think it would make him feel even worse in the long run, he would have climbed right back into his bed too. But he had something else he needed to take care of, and he sought out his partner in crime, Panda. 

She was sitting in the war room with a large mug of coffee blinking drowsily at the Christmas tree. She gave him a small smile. "Hey, Sam."

“Hey, Panda Bear. You’re up bright and early. Couldn’t sleep?” He went over to sit across from her without blocking her view. 

"It was just nice and quiet and I wanted to enjoy being in here for a bit before everything got noisy." She shrugged one shoulder. "And . . . I'm still worried about her. Like she's gonna disappear on us again."

“Yeah.” Sam frowned. He knew the feeling. Even though he was fairly certain she’d worked things out with his brother, he still knew there was one big boulder left unturned for her. Until Alex was able to come to terms with their dad, there was no way things would be totally right for her. “We have to just hope she can make the right choices right now, I guess.”

"We have to take it down, don't we?" Panda sounded sad, but resigned. "I can help. We could get it done before she wakes up."

Sam studied her pointedly. “You think that’s the right thing for her? With all you know?”

Panda seemed confused, unsure. "I don't . . . I care about Alex more than a dumb tree, Sam."

“I had…” He paused, his own doubts strong in his mind. “I had, maybe, another idea?”

Hope sparked in her eye. "I, I can help again?" She smiled shyly, her face full of trust. 

“Well, first you can tell me if it’s a good idea or an awful one,” he said with an uncomfortable laugh. “I, um, I was thinking…” His hands slipped into his front pocket as he shuffled. “Well, she said that her parents used to decorate a lot for Christmas and I was just thinking...what if we could get some of those decorations? Bring them back to the bunker? So...so she wouldn’t be decorating without them?” He looked at her, eyes wide with hope and worry. 

Now it was tears that sparkled in Panda's eyes, and she nodded, soberly. Her voice was reverent. "Sam, if we could find them . . . Maybe she wouldn't be ready to put them out yet, but she'd have them for- for when she _was_. We could show her . . . We could make her feel more at home here, maybe. It could be a start. To have something of theirs . . . a piece of home. Especially if Christmas was so special to them . . . It would mean everything, I would think. Do you really think we can track them down?"

“I don’t know. It depends...depends what happened to her parents’ things after they died. And…” as much as he hated the idea… “there’s only one way I know to find out.”

She looked worried in turn. "Wh-what is it?"

There was a feeling of dread even mentioning it, knowing now just the little Alex had told him. “Contacting her uncle.”

Panda frowned a little. "Okay. Do you think . . . Hopefully he won't mind when we tell him it's to help Alex?"

“Honestly, I have no idea how he’ll react. I feel like there’s an awful lot Alex hasn’t told us about her time living with him and I’m afraid none of it's good. But, maybe, if we just ask if he knows where their things are so Alex can collect them, maybe he’ll be okay with it?”

"I hope so." Panda looked a little anxious. "We can only try. If that doesn't work, we can try something else . . ?"

“I was wondering…” He hesitated. He hated to ask more of her, but he had worries about calling on his own. “How would you feel about calling them? As a concerned friend. I feel like it will give less away about where she is than if I call, and I’m fairly certain she doesn’t want them to know that she’s here.”

"Oh!" Her eyes opened wide. A look of determination crossed her features, though her voice was quiet when she spoke. "I can do that, Sam."

“Are you sure? If you’re not comfortable…” He had no idea how Alex’s uncle would react and he didn’t want to put her in a terrible position. “You don’t have to do this for me, I can figure out another way.”

"I - I'm doing it for Alex-" she offered him an impish grin, "-but I'd do it for either of you. I wanna do this," she promised. "You'll . . . You'll be there, though?"

He couldn’t be prouder of her. “Yes, of course. Right by your side.”

She relaxed and nodded. "Okay. Let's do it, then."

Sam rubbed his hands on his jeans nervously, then took out his phone. “Got the number while we were out the other day,” he said as he pulled it up and held out the cell to her. “Hopefully it works.”

Panda held it cautiously for a moment then dialed the number, pressing the phone against her ear. 

* * *

  
John walked down the hall and stood outside the bedroom door, listening for a moment, wondering if he should check on her or not. Maybe she was taking a nap-- but something told him she wasn’t. He’d meant to check on her earlier in the week, but things had been hectic, to say the least. 

He tapped on Tosca’s door, and then entered when he heard the muffled, “Come in.”

She was sitting on her bed, hunched over in that position that told him his instincts were right- she’d been having a rough time. 

He pitched his voice low and warm. “Hey, sweetheart, how are you?” He walked over to stand near the bed.

She glanced up at him, and then her eyes traveled around the room, unfocused. “I…”

“Can I sit down?” He asked, and she nodded. 

He perched on the edge of the bed, facing her. “What’s going on? Are you remembering something?”

She nodded, blinking rapidly, and twisted her hands in the blanket on her bed.

Tosca’s memories had been messed with during her long captivity in the djinn’s lair. The huge gaps of her recall of her past mixed with the djinn’s fantasy world, and sometimes she wasn’t sure what had been real and what had been part of the dream world. 

“I--keep seeing--the stars--” she choked out, and then she buried her face in her hands and started crying.

“The stars?” He asked.

She hunched over further, her shoulders shaking. “The silver star orna--ornaments.”

“Tosca. Can I hold your hand?” He asked calmly.

Wordlessly, she held her hand out to him, and he took it and enclosed it in both of his. “You’re remembering something from your past…” His voice was gentle. “You’re here with me, in the Bunker, and you’re safe now. It’s just a memory, and it’s okay to remember it now.” 

Her breath hitched with sobs, and he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. 

She began to speak. “You know how my g-grandmother--she had to have everything _just_ _so-_ -there was a big fancy Christmas tree she’d put up every year in the living room--and I w-wasn’t allowed--” her chest hitched. “That room w-was only for company, s-so I didn’t get to go in there.” 

“I’m sorry.” John squeezed her hand.

From what they had been able to figure out about Tosca’s past, she’d been raised by grandparents who were old fashioned and proper and of the “children should be seen and not heard” school of thought. They were prominent members of their community and their house had been like a museum-- and adventurous, inquisitive little Tosca didn’t mesh well with their way of living. She’d grown up with clothes on her back and food on the table, but virtually no physical affection. Her grandparents had frowned on displays of emotion, and they would send her to her room and make her stay there for inordinate amounts of time as punishment. It was probably the worst kind of punishment an emotional, attention-craving child could have had. 

“She s-said--” Tosca cleared her throat. She sat up and wiped her cheeks with her palm, and looked at him. “There was another, smaller tree in the k-kitchen, that she let me help decorate. It h-had like a, a country kitchen theme? Little shiny silver s-stars made out of metal, and soft ornaments m-made of f-felt and gingham. So--” she sighed. “M-my teacher when I was in first grade, she gave all the students a present, an ornament that she made, and mine was-- it was a little gingerbread girl m-made of corduroy f-fabric, with little b-button eyes and a little red plaid s-scarf around its--its neck.”

“That was nice of her.” John said. 

Tosca nodded. “G-grandmother s-said that I c-could put it on the t-tree in the k-kitchen. So I d-did, but--” she dropped her eyes to the blanket. Tears filled her eyes again. Her voice was a whisper when she spoke. “M-Miss S-smith was so n-nice, she--she’d hug everyone, I--I loved getting hugs f-from her. And I w-wanted to be re-reminded of that, so I--” she covered her eyes with her hand as she began to cry harder. “I t-took the g-gingerbread ornament and I w-would sleep w-with it, it m-made m-me feel all w-warm inside wh-when I held it. A couple d-days later I forgot to put it on the t-tree and Grandmother f-found it in m-my room and s-she g-got mad. She y-yelled at me, s-said I was irresponsible and s-selfish for t-taking an ornament off the tree, and she--slapped me.” Tosca broke down sobbing. “She took the gingerbread girl away from me and I never saw it again!” She wailed. 

“Oh, Tosca, I’m so sorry. Let me--can I hold you?” John asked carefully.

She leaned forward, and he moved over so he was closer to her and put his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest as she cried.

John let her cry for a little bit before saying, “That sounds very upsetting. She had unreasonable expectations for a little girl. She shouldn’t have gotten angry at you, or hit you like that, or taken away something that was yours.” 

“I--I c-couldn’t h-help it, I--I j-just w-wanted someone to h-hold me.” Her chest heaved.

“Of course, all kids want that.” He briefly remembered coming home exhausted from hunts, and little Sammy crawling into his lap, asking questions and demanding attention that he hadn’t always had the energy to give. 

“I’m sorry that you had to grow up with that.” John said. 

Tosca’s crying slowed, and she straightened up. John released her and leaned over to snag a box of tissues off of her bedside table. She blew her nose and dried her face.

“Did you just remember this?” He asked, stroking her hair back from her face and tucking it behind her ear.

“Well, when we were decorating the tree earlier in the week I started to-- I--I remembered little flashes of it, but I didn’t-- I wasn’t sure what it was, if it was real or not.” She looked embarrassed. “Things’ve b-been so t-topsy-turvy the past few days and I--I just didn’t want to bother anyone.” 

John took her chin and made her look at him. “You should have come to me, it’s never a bother, Tosca.” He said firmly.

Ever since she had recovered and started having disturbing flashbacks, they’d had to remind her to ask for help. It had been a long road to get her to be comfortable with that. “Remember that, you can always come and find me or Sam or Dean. I know the girls don’t know much about your past yet, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind keeping you company or giving you a hug if you were upset. You’re part of the family now.” 

Her eyes filled with grateful tears. “Yeah.” She reached out to hug him, and they sat together holding each other. “Thank you for taking me in.” She said. “Thank you for letting me be part of the family.”

He put his hand on the back of her head. “Of course, darlin’. We’re glad you’re here.” 

* * *

  
  
Alex had gone to sleep in her room nestled in Dean’s arms, and had woken up sprawled out on her stomach, not another soul in sight. 

The loneliness hit her first, the ache in the very core of her being. The pain in every muscle, on every inch of skin he’d punished, soon followed.

And then Alex remembered. 

Last night she’d been the bravest she’d ever been. She’d summoned every last bit of courage, and trust, and faith, and asked to be his submissive. She’d asked him to be her dominant. Dean Winchester. And he’d taken that courage and shattered her heart into a million little pieces. His arms had kept the shards together as she’d drifted off to sleep, but now they all sat heavy as lead in the pit of her stomach.

God, she’d been so stupid. 

She shifted slightly to reach for her phone and immediately wished she hadn’t. Instead of the news, she opened her texts. 

_Alex to Dean (9:05am): May I please have some ice? Sir._

_Dean (9:10am): Yes you may, come on and get it. I'll wager hunting for ice is far easier than searching for you._

Alex winced, but she knew Dean was mostly joking. Mostly. At least he’d granted her the ice. 

She winced even more as she got out of bed. There wasn’t an inch of her body that wasn’t screaming in some kind of pain. Her muscles were sore from staying in a position all night that wouldn’t aggravate the welts Dean had so carefully laid across her skin. And the welts, well, they were nearly howling. She deserved every one of them, she had no doubt about that. But knowing it didn’t make it hurt any less. 

She got dressed carefully in her loosest clothing, knowing it would all come off as soon as she made it back to her room. She brushed her hair. Didn’t matter how awful she felt, she refused to go out there looking like she’d been beaten into submission the night before. She had a reputation to manage, and besides, if John was out there…

She didn’t want to think about it. She still had a score to settle with John, but she wasn’t ready - not physically, not mentally. 

The bunker was quiet and of course she could hope all she wanted that it was because no one was home but she knew there’d be no such luck as she made her way down the hall and to the kitchen. 

Their voices carried before she could even see them. John and Dean. It was a quiet rumble to her ear, but she could tell nonetheless. 

For a second she considered turning back. There was no way she’d humiliate herself getting an ice pack for her bottom with John Winchester looking on. A spark of anger raced through her. Had Dean known he’d be there when he sent the text? Was this part of her punishment? Or had John joined him after? Either way she knew Dean would come looking for her if she just didn’t show her face. She was trying to decide which was worse when her stomach rumbled and decided for her. She’d just get breakfast. Grab some things and take them back to the safe solitude of her room. 

But with one more step she realized just how careful she was being to prevent the edge of her skirt from scraping along the bungee marks, how she was limping slightly to prevent the friction of her skin at her sit spots, how obvious it would be to the Winchesters that she was hurting. 

There’d be none of that. She straightened up, steeled herself for the discomfort, and walked straight into that kitchen, eyes and feet with no target but the dishes and the fridge. 

"Hey kiddo," Dean murmured warmly as she entered. "Just made a second pot of coffee, should be ready."

“Thanks,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze. Avoiding both of their gazes. She grabbed a mug and a plate and opened the fridge, pulling out some cheese and an orange. Her back to them, she prepared her breakfast. 

She heard a throat clear and then John’s voice. "Why don't you join us? I mean . . . We'd like to have you, if you would."

Alex tensed immediately. She may have only been imagining Dean’s coercion behind the request, but either way, joining them sounded like emotional and physical torture for more reasons than she could count. “I’m fine,” she said curtly. She poured her coffee and gave up on any further preparation. The idea of them watching her at all was making her feel hot and dizzy. “Just going to take these back to my room.”

She grabbed her plate and hurried back out of the kitchen and down the hall without a single glance toward either of them. Her heart was racing until she crossed the threshold of her room and closed that door. Leaning her shoulders back against it, she tried to get ahold of herself. She couldn’t live like this, she knew that. What she didn’t know was how to fix it.

There was no doubt she wanted to be here, wanted to belong like the other girls did, she thought as she put her coffee down on the nightstand and laid out on her bed. Hitched up on her elbows, knees bent, ankles crossed in the air, she nibbled at the breakfast she’d brought herself. Her appetite had escaped her, but she tried to eat as she thought. 

It wasn’t Dean. Sure, things were weird right now. She’d asked for the world and he hadn’t said yes, but he hadn’t said no either, which meant that any move she made, wrong or right, could nudge him in a direction. She just had no idea which way her moves would make him lean or how much it even had to do with her. And he’d said himself he wasn’t going to decide until after Christmas. It was best to try and put it out of her mind and deal with the more pressing issue. John. 

They couldn’t continue this way. She couldn’t continue to live with a man she dared not trust, the man who’d been her invisible monster half her life and had shown her more proof she’d been right than wrong. 

And yet, everyone else, even Dean, especially Dean, trusted him. Loved him. She had no idea how to reconcile that. 

She’d managed a few more bites when she heard a soft double knock on the door. "Alex?" Dean's voice carried a thread of concern.

She shifted as quickly as her aching body would allow, putting her plate on the nightstand and getting up to answer the door. She didn’t want him seeing her lying on the bed, weak and hurting from his licking. Didn’t want him thinking she was trying her damnedest not to dwell on how stupid she’d been, asking him for what she had. She didn’t want him seeing her vulnerable at all, so she pretended like she hadn’t just completely ignored him in the kitchen, put the pain away like she’d done all too often before, and opened the door. 

“Hey,” she said as casually as she could manage. “What’s up?”

He stared down at her piercingly, his green eyes drilling a hole right through her. She suddenly found it hard to breathe. Those eyes were everything she wanted. But, of course, she was Alex. She wasn’t ever allowed what she truly wanted. 

He reached out and gently touched her cheek. "I came to check on you. Can I come in, please?"

Her heart aching as much as her skin, she stepped back, knowing no matter what, she could never deny him. Her voice was small, wanting to say so much, but all she managed was, “Yeah, of course.”

He closed the door behind him and she saw he had some things under his arm. He went to the end of her bed and set them down. There was a large ice pack and a jar of ointment she recognized from the first aid kit. Her cheeks instantly grew hot with embarrassment, as if he hadn’t been the one to mark her in the first place. 

Dean stared down at her for a long moment, seemingly trying to stare into her soul. Was he thinking about what she’d asked him? Was he weighing if she was good enough for him? If she was worth the effort? She wished the floor would swallow her up. Then he cleared his throat. "You forgot your ice."

“Yeah, thanks,” she said, grabbing it from him, heading back to her bed. It dangled in her hand by her side as she lingered, her uncertainty clear as day. 

He almost looked amused as he watched her. "You gonna let me take care of you?" 

Her eyes dropped, then rose, submission and defiance battling inside her. Defiance won. It had to. He hadn’t accepted her submission. “Do I have a choice?” she challenged.

He smirked, "I want to say no, but I'm not laying a hand on you without your permission - you know that. I hurt you and I want to take care of you. Now, are you going to let me?"

She wanted to say no, too. But something churning in her stomach wouldn’t allow it. “Yes.” 

Relief flickered across his face. "Good," he murmured. "Go ahead and lay down on the bed."

It took effort, getting herself to follow his direction. It shouldn’t have. It was Dean. But as she laid down, looking away from him, her arms folded beneath her cheek, she couldn’t help but feel immensely vulnerable knowing what was coming.

With infinite care, he tugged the edge of her skirt free until her bottom was bare. He let the fabric pool at her waist. The silence stretched and she realized he hadn't moved a muscle.

“It’s not that bad,” she lied, trying to reassure him. And trying not to think about him staring at her. “Looks worse than it feels.”

"You don't know how it looks," he grunted. 

“I have a mirror, Dean,” she nearly snapped. “I know exactly how it looks.”

He didn't answer for a second. "Watch your tone." His voice was a bit more gentle than he would normally deliver the warning, but it sent a shiver through her nonetheless. "Don't think you can't still earn yourself a swat. There are still a few places left to smack if you wanna push me."

“No, sir,” she said, not needing another inch of pain in her body. “I mean, sorry, sir.”

She heard his soft sigh and the sound of him opening the lid on the ointment. "Don't think for a second I believe that crap you were trying to sell me either," he muttered. He began to spread the cool ointment across the top of her bottom with a feather-light touch of his calloused fingers. 

He knew. He’d known, been deliberate. Known exactly how every single lash he’d given her would feel. Known the extent of the welts and bruising it would leave. And in return, in gratitude, she had given him every ounce of her submission, showed him everything she could be for him. But despite that, he couldn’t say yes. Because it was the same pain he’d felt in his heart when she’d left him. She’d left scars too. Maybe they were too deep for him to ever be able to give her what she truly needed. The knowledge of that hurt so much more than any physical pain. 

"Sooo . . ." He kept his tone light, but he couldn't hide the note of chagrin. "I probably should have tried to get rid of Dad when I knew you were coming, but he showed up after you'd texted me."

“It’s okay,” she said after a brief pause. Her voice was quiet though. The pain in it was clear as day. “Not like I can really avoid him long as I’m living here.”

He took another beat, cleared his throat. "What he did . . . He had no right, Alex."

The stiffening of her muscles was instantaneous and for a second she felt strangled for breath. A pin drop could be heard in the room. Then finally, she answered. “No. No he didn’t.” Her voice was like ice. “Not yesterday. Not before I ran. If he’d just left me alone...”

“He wasn't the only one contributing to it, though. I wasn't there when he manhandled you into the truck; I'm not referring to that, but the stuff when we were tree decorating. Whether you think he's right or not, doesn't change the fact that I expect you to treat him with respect.”

“Yes, I know, you made that very clear.” It didn’t mean she thought John deserved that respect. She never had. That’s what Dean didn’t understand. Would never understand. 

“I never expect you to just let people hurt you, though. That was wrong. I was . . ." He fell silent for a moment, strangled by some overwhelming emotion. 

When he went on, his voice was low. "I could've lit into him when I found out he laid his hands on you - I almost did. Spent the whole ride home tearing him a new one. I know it doesn't buy him any points, but he just took it. He knew I was right."

“Whatever you said, he deserved it.” The bitterness dripped from her voice. “Sam thinks he deserves my apology for leaving. Thinks John cared that I left. But John Winchester doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

Dean froze in his ministrations, his voice sharp and commanding. “Hey! Firstly, someone else doing something wrong doesn't mean you get to stoop to their level. You don't have to sit quiet and let him put hands on you, but you don't get to talk to him or about him like you've been. I think you're smart enough to understand that distinction. John Winchester _does_ care, a lot more than you give him credit for. He hasn't given much care for himself in a long time. My dad may not be an easy man to get along with, or to understand, but he's not a monster.”

She knew he wanted her to understand, agree. But, “Okay,” was all she could give him.

He seemed to accept that; at least he resumed carefully applying the ointment to her undercurves. “He came in just now to ask my advice on the best way to go about repairing the damage he did; making things right with you. That’s why he joined me in the kitchen."

Silence again. It seemed to fill the air with interminable heat. “What did you say?” she asked. 

"I said that was up to you. That it was going to have to be on your terms. When you left the kitchen just now, he asked me if I would pass along the message that he wants to meet with you to talk - anytime, anyplace you're willing. He said he understands if you're not ready yet and he's not going to try to force you into anything."

John may have understood, but the hurt in Dean’s heart was obvious. It pained him, how she felt about the man he practically worshipped. She knew it could be easier for him if he understood why. She knew they made promises yesterday to have no more secrets. 

“Dean?” she asked timidly.

He caught the change in tone and looked her in the face. “Yeah, kiddo?”

But one look at the concern emanating from his eyes, and she knew there were some things he didn’t need to know. “I’ll try,” she said instead. “Talking to him, I mean.” If she wanted to prove she could submit to him, _be_ his submissive, she could do that for him. She had to. 

Dean was quiet for a beat. “Alex. You really don't wanna earn yourself a single swat for giving me a half truth right now . . .” He let the threat hang meaningfully. 

She didn’t. Her ass was still on fire. And yet, she thought any swat would hurt her less than it would hurt him if he knew the truth. Of course, that’s what she’d thought about running too. 

“There are things, about my Uncle...about John,” _and you,_ “I just, I don’t feel comfortable telling you. I’m sorry. I hope...I hope you can respect that.”

She could tell he was torn. “I want to. I'm just afraid this feels just like the respecting I've been doing all week. And that just led to you being hurt.” He fell silent for a moment. His thumb rubbed gently along her shoulder. When he spoke his voice was full of resolve. “You've been doing a good job being honest with me. I want to trust you with this. Don't let me down, Alex.”

She lowered her eyes, her body filling with a submission she had to fight. “I’ll try not to, Dean.”

He caressed the back of her neck, his touch as warm as his words. "That's my girl." He draped the ice pack over the skin he'd just finished coating with ointment. The immediate chill quickly eased into a cool soothing of her heated skin and she let out a soft sigh. 

"Better?" There was the slightest hint of mischief in his tone.

“Yes,” she said, unable to hold back a soft laugh. If only…then everything would be perfect. 

"Good." He sounded a little proud of himself. "Rest, I'm sure you could use it, but don't hide out for too long, okay? We've missed you, kiddo." He patted her shoulder and she almost answered, “yes, sir,” as he went to slip out of the room, but she held her tongue. 

He started to shut the door behind him, but stopped. "Alex, I don't want you doing anything that makes you feel unsafe. If you don't feel comfortable being alone with him, you find a way to feel safe about the situation. Walking into that conversation otherwise - putting both him and you in that position - that's not respectful to either of you. This may be his house, but you have every right to be here too - and to feel safe while you're here. Understood?"

She understood. She understood she’d have no choice but to disobey him. If she didn’t have Dean’s full authority to rely on, she had to figure out a way to be okay with John on her own, whether she felt safe to try or not. It was her only option if she was going to stay. And she wanted to stay. “I understand,” she whispered. 

"Okay." He seemed reluctant to leave. He cleared his throat and murmured warmly, "I love you, kid."

 _Kid_ . That was probably all he’d ever see in her. “Love you too,” she answered, burying her face in her pillow. _Far too much._

* * *

  
Sam stopped the car and Panda could feel the nerves fluttering in her stomach - mostly positive. She had a good feeling about this. 

"You ready?" Sam smiled down at her and she nodded. 

They made their way into the storage building and past rows of lockers until they found the one that Alex's uncle had said contained her parents' possessions. 

Panda played lookout while Sam made short work of picking the lock. When he got it opened, she came around to peer inside with a sense of reverence. 

The locker was filled to the brim with what Panda could only imagine were pieces of Alex’s childhood. A shelf full of books revealed not only the typical hunter fare but a row of murder mysteries and a shelf full of romance novels. Toys that must have been Alex’s and dishware that was lovingly worn filled a corner. Tools, no doubt belonging to her father, stood proud in a large red container against the back wall. 

She couldn't resist passing her fingers lightly over some of the objects. Sam was carefully looking on some of the higher shelves, so her eyes panned low, and there in a corner, she felt herself drawn to a prettily carved wooden box. 

She slid it forward and carefully opened it, finding round glass Christmas ornaments, laying nestled in a piece of silk. As delicately as she could, she pulled out two, exquisitely hand painted with scenes from The Nutcracker.

"Oh!" 

“You find something?” Sam asked.

"Y-yeah, I found . . . Come see!" It was what they'd come here to find, Panda was sure of it. 

Sam knelt down beside her, and smiled. “They’re beautiful. Anything else in there?”

"There's a whole box of them." She carefully placed the ornaments back in their spots, deep in the silk, so they wouldn't get cracked or scratched.

“Perfect,” Sam said. “Exactly what we were looking for. Let’s wrap it up carefully and take it back home.”

"Okay!" she exclaimed proudly. She obeyed him, meticulously wrapping it and carrying it with utmost care back to the car. She held it on her lap the whole way to shield it from every bump as if it was the most precious treasure, because to her, at that moment, it was. 


	12. Christmas Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it took far longer than any of us would have liked, but here it finally is - the end of this story! Many thanks to Tosca and Edge for all their time and effort. Many thanks to all of you for sticking with us! And we hope you’ll come along for the next part of the journey!

John woke up the next morning and stared blearily up at the ceiling, the ghosts of mistakes past and present flitting through his mind. His eyes closed and opened again, his vision clearer, but it did nothing to block out his oppressive thoughts. He wasn't one to close his eyes to the truth, anyway. 

Christmas Eve. A day that was supposed to be full of promise. Maybe for him it would present the opportunity to right some of those mistakes. All he could do was try. 

He wouldn't accomplish anything lying here feeling sorry for himself, though, that was certain. He rose and pulled on some clothes before stumbling down the hall toward the kitchen and the promise of coffee. 

Freezing at a small sound - a light step on the tile - he sidled over until he could see around the corner to confirm it was Edge. Striding determinedly, on a mission, she was headed toward the observatory. Instinctively, he followed. 

John stopped at the entrance to the telescope room, not actually stepping inside, and craned his neck to peek in. He already guessed what Edge came here for, and he wasn’t wrong. He took a few paces forward.

“Hi,” he said. 

Edge spinned on her heel, startled. She didn’t seem to relax a whole lot when she realized it was John. “Hi,” she replied.

“What are you up to?” He moved a step closer.

“Nothing, sir,” her hands were tugging at the hem of her flannel, and John resisted a smile.

“So you didn’t come here to open the last window on the advent calender?” He asked calmly.

Her eyes widened, and her expression reminded John of times when his boys were little and he would catch one of them doing something they shouldn’t have been doing - touching the weapon duffel, or trying to sneak one too many candy before dinner.

“I just… I didn’t think it was a good time to bother anybody with this,” Edge said. “I mean, everybody’s got other stuff on their mind. I can get it.”

John closed the distance between them. “So, you’ve decided to deny us of our second chance,” he said.

“I what?” Now she was looking alarmed.

“Do you remember I said we’d like a second chance at taking part in this advent calendar tradition? It wasn’t lip service, I meant what I said. Did you have doubts about it?”

“No, sir, it’s nothing like that. But… there’s been a lot going on, and… this didn’t seem like the most important thing-”

“Hey,” he took hold of her chin and raised her face up, making her look straight into his eyes. “I said it was important, and it is. True, not the most important thing at this time, but still important enough. And when something’s important enough, we can find time for it. Can’t we?”

She nodded wordlessly, and John smiled. “Whose turn is it today?”

“It’s Sam’s, but…” 

John let go of her and strode over to where the advent calendar hung. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be exercising my prerogative as head of this family to take the matter into my own hands.” He flipped the last window open and shot Edge a grin.

She stared at him, her expression shifting between bewilderment and disbelief. At last she gave him a tentative smile. “Does your prerogative include the candy, too?”

John plucked the two red-and-white startlights mints that were waiting inside the window. “Well, by rights it should, but tell you what. I’ll share them with you, and next year we can go shopping for them together. How about that?”

He popped one piece of candy into his mouth and held the other out to her. Her smile broadened and she stepped forward to take it. “That’s a date, John.”

As they turned to leave, John glanced over at the advent calender. The telescope room was relatively dim, but even so, the calender’s colors seemed to shine bright. He would take it as a good omen. Maybe the day could hold a little magic for them after all. 

* * *

  
She’d paced and paced all morning. Her dreams had kept her up the night before, dreams of her father and John and Dean. Phantoms of a childhood half made up in her head - a villain created for her, a savior she’d created for herself. Neither were true. She hadn’t been brought here for either of them.

Maybe Alex had been brought to the bunker to save herself. 

In taking her whippings from Sam and Dean, she’d solidified what she wanted from both of them. One, a brother. The other, a dominant. She wanted them more than she’d ever wanted anything, other than her parents back. But there was still the third Winchester under this roof she’d have to reconcile with in order to know that she was meant to stay.

John.

_“Alex, I don't want you doing anything that makes you feel unsafe. If you don't feel comfortable being alone with him, you find a way to feel safe about the situation. Walking into that conversation otherwise - putting both him and you in that position - that's not respectful to either of you.”_

Dean’s words rang through her head. Dominant or not, she still answered to him and doing what she was about to do was still disobedience. Disrespecting John, that was something Dean wouldn’t stand for no matter who she was to him. And yet, there was no other choice. 

She sat down at her writing desk, pulled out a pen and paper. Confession might soothe the blow. It couldn’t make it worse and she owed him that courtesy at least, to let him know she’d heard and listened, especially if she wanted to prove herself worthy of him.

  
  


_Dear Dean,_

_I’m going to talk to John. And I know you don’t understand. Because I’ve refused to explain it to you. And I’ve asked you to respect that and you have._

_I need you to trust me here too._

_I have to know that I am safe with him. I have to be able to respect him like you need me to. And there’s only one way I see that happening. Otherwise, I don’t see how I can stay, constantly holding my breath with him, constantly defying you._

_I will be honest, I am scared. I don’t feel safe. And yet, this is something I must do alone. I know how you feel about that. I accept your punishment if you see fit. But I asked Sam to respect that this was between me and John. And I ask you to do the same._

_I love you,_

_Alex_

Folding the note in half, Alex rose from her desk. She’d been waiting until the timing was right, but after yesterday she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. She’d interrupted Dean’s work on Baby the other day and he’d finally gone back to it this morning. Sam and the girls were cooking and cleaning and wrapping presents for Christmas Eve. And John, as always, was in his room, looking for patterns to piece together into hunts. 

She took the note and made her way to the garage. She couldn’t help but smile when she found Dean exactly where she’d expected, head under the Impala’s chassis, feet sticking out. She steeled herself and walked over with a grin. 

“How’s it going?” she asked cheerfully. “Almost done?”

“Yup,” he answered. “Just another ten or fifteen minutes and I’ll start her up, she’ll be purring like a pussy cat.” 

“Excellent.” She’d get a good enough head start. “Can’t have Baby feeling sick on Christmas, can we?”

“No, we sure can not. Wanna help?”

She knew he’d ask. “No thanks. I’ve got some last minute things to take care of before Christmas Eve. Presents and all.” It wasn’t a lie. She’d been careful not to lie. 

Dean showed no concern. “Sounds good. See you in a bit.”

“See ya, Dean.” With his head still under the car, she tossed the note through the window onto the front seat. He’d find it when he turned Baby on. 

Leaving the garage, she headed down to the bedrooms, pausing outside the one she wanted. Then with a deep, calming breath, she knocked on John‘s door. It hadn’t been an easy choice. There was a young girl inside her, shaking her, telling her to run. But Dean had asked her to give him a chance. And so she obeyed. 

On her own terms, of course. 

At the deep grunt of, “Come in,” Alex opened the door to John’s room. She hadn’t been in there before. It was austere - a perfectly made bed with a packed duffle centered against it on the floor. A night stand with a few books, a flask of holy water, and a plain lamp. A desk with a computer, more books, newspaper clippings and papers all neatly arranged. A few weapons hung on the wall. That was pretty much it. She left the door open, swinging it back until it hit the wall. Then she leaned against it, placing her palms flat against the cool wood. Grounding her.   
  
John watched her cautiously from where he sat at his desk, the work he’d been doing suddenly forgotten. He schooled his face. “Alex.”   
  
“Dean,” she said by way of explanation. “He said you wanted to talk.” She was proud of how steady her voice was despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins. “If I wanted to.”   
  
“Only if you want to,” John reiterated. She looked at the ground. She didn’t want to. But if she was going to continue to live there, and she _wanted_ to continue to live there, she had to. “Alex-“   
  
“My uncle,” she said, not letting him begin. This conversation was hers to guide. “When he got angry or frustrated at me, when I’d pushed him too far, he’d grab my arm, drag me to my bed or the nearest table. He’d push me flat and take off his belt. And then he’d whip me.” She tried to keep the emotion out of her voice. She wouldn’t fall apart in front of him. “Sometimes he’d talk while he did it. Tell me how selfish I was, how ungrateful. Tell me how much my cousins tried to be my friends. How mean I was when I wouldn’t let them. He’d tell me...other things.” She’d get to that later. Maybe. “Sometimes, he wouldn’t say anything at all.” She’d never really decided which was better. “When his arm finally got tired, he’d ground me to my room. No escape except the bathroom down the hall. Truth was, he didn’t want to see me. My cousins would sneak me food. Leave it because they didn’t know when they’d have a chance to bring me more. I’d stay there until it seemed pretty obvious that my uncle had forgotten about me, then I’d sneak out, hope he didn’t care, and stay out of the way until the next time.”

John's face never left hers as she talked. His eyes grew dark. When she'd finished he was silent for awhile just looking at her. He swallowed. “Do Sam and Dean . . .”   
  
“No. Sam and Dean don’t know. Not that.” She ignored the guilt that pulled at her heart. She had to put Dean out of her mind until this was through. “They don’t need to. But you do.”   
  
“Alex, I’m sorry-“   
  
“I'm not looking for sympathy.” Her voice was unshaken. Her stare was cold as ice. “I'm looking for some way to know you're not like that.”

He winced. His eyes went to the floor for a long moment then he nodded and brought his gaze back to hers. The mask he always wore had slipped; she got the feeling it was intentional, that he was trying to let her see in. What she saw was exhaustion and grief. “I won't deny something broke in me when my wife was taken. There was a time I was lost in the pain, using whiskey and the hunt to numb everything. I know my boys suffered for it. I'd like to think I've gotten better. I'm still broken; still don't let people in easily. I come across as a hard man, I know that, mostly don't care enough to try. I assure you I don't bother offering discipline to people I don't care about. When I do, it comes outta concern. And I do care for you girls, I never would have imagined I was gonna adopt you so quickly; consider you one a’ mine.”

“Sam says I hurt you. By leaving.”

He fidgeted uncomfortably. “I didn't know I was stepping in something bringing that tree home and all. I thought it might be nice, hasn't been much cause to celebrate since . . . and maybe I shoulda tried more with the boys. And then I tried to coax -” he stopped himself and tried again. “Force you to join in . . . That's not what I meant to do, but I know that's what I ended up doing. Anyway, yeah, I was blaming myself for running you off. I got a track record. And you weren't easy to find; I started imagining something happening to you before I could find you. My only thought when I caught up with you was bringing you back, where you belonged, so Sam and Dean could talk some sense into you. I was completely out of line, doing what I did: laying a hand on you. It was a breach of trust. I'd do anything to get to do it over again, Alex.”

She crossed her arms on her chest. “And do what instead?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Honestly, considering how far off base I was, I might call the boys in the first place, so I didn't screw it up, but knowing what I do, I'd have started with talking to you about why you left. There was a lot there, you weren't just bratting and I shouldn't have acted like that's all it was. I'd have tried to get you to see what a mess the place is without you and asked you to come back so we could all sort it out. But we both know you can't erase the past. All I have is apologizing and moving forward. And I am sorry, Alex. Truly. It's not a mistake I plan on repeating.” 

Alex nodded, her eyes drifting to the floor. “You said you had a track record. The boys used to run?”

His voice sounded pained. “Sam and me . . . we didn't always see eye to eye.”

“What…” She looked up at him through her lashes, her cheeks flushing slightly. “What would you do? When they ran?”

He looked at her quizzically, but he answered matter of factly. “Generally, once I got ‘em home I would bend them over the table or counter and tan their hide with my belt. If I felt the lesson needed to be driven home, I might add being confined to quarters or running drills.”

Alex’s pulse raced. She’d been right all along. “So tell me how you’re different. From...him.” Her voice was suddenly shaking. She tried to steady it, but she couldn’t. “He would say he did it in your name! So tell me…”

John was completely blind-sided. “He, he said . . ? What the hell does that mean?”

“Hunters talk, John. Tell stories. And I guess you weren’t always so...private...with the boys, when you’d…” She shook her head. “There was this one hunter my uncle was friends with. Martin. Said once how you took the boys out to the woodshed in his old cabin. My uncle used to tell me that Sam and Dean Winchester were heroes. And if a whippin’ was good enough for them,” she sniffled, holding back tears, “it was sure as hell good enough for me.”

John gripped the edge of his desk, his face dark. She thought he was going to stand up, he seemed braced for it, but he got ahold of himself enough to speak, his voice laced with fury and pain. “Martin is an ass. I wouldn't trust him with a dog, nevermind a kid -”

She wasn’t going to let him try to get away with the moral high ground here. “He wasn’t the one who did it, John, you were. And he wasn’t the only one to talk. First thing I’d ever heard about you Winchesters was how you’d lay into Dean. I can’t even imagine Sam and Dean knowing that hunters were gossiping about that. ‘Course, what you did is no secret ‘round here. You just said it yourself.”

“I don't claim to be perfect, Alex. I'm not saying I was never harsh with them, but I loved them - with everything I had left. Everything I did was to try to keep them safe - not to take my anger out on them. That kind of heartless . . . Forgetting you? Not telling you why you were getting licked? Putting you down while he was whaling on you? Leaving you alone and hurting? I hope to God I never put my boys through anything like that, and I never would have condoned someone else treating their kids that way.” His voice shook and his eyes were glassy. “You deserved so much better.”

She felt tears welling in her eyes as he spoke. The acknowledgment of her pain. Her abuse. 

“And I know you said . . . but I wish to God I could have five minutes with the son of a bitch who put you through it.” 

And on a dime, her tears froze. “God, why do you...?” Relief turned back to fear, and into rage. “Violence proves _nothing_ to me! Going after him makes _nothing_ right with me! You stupid…” Her hands flew to her face, palms pressed to her eyes before she could say anything she’d regret. Her stomach turned and stars swirled in the darkness. “Punishing him is about what _you_ need to make _you_ feel better. Do you even see me? Do you even care what I need?”

John was stunned for a moment. He steepled his hands in front of him and looked to her almost timid, his voice quiet. "I see you. I do. I'm sorry . . . You're talking to someone who based the majority of their life on revenge. I'm trying to find another way, but there's a reason I'm one of the best hunters out there: violence is my knee jerk response when I see an innocent child - someone I care about - hurt. But I hear you. Help me then, please. What do you need from me? I'll do my best. It's the only promise I can make." 

"I need..." She'd walked in there with a purpose. And it wasn't to walk out again with nothing gained. Nothing changed. Because one thing she knew for damn sure is she couldn’t go back to the way things were. "I need you to be safe. I need you to be someone I can trust. I need to know that if I stay here you're not gonna hurt me because you can or because you're too caught up in the moment to forget that you shouldn't. I need to know that what I say matters and what I do matters and that you hear me and that even if I run I won't just be another hunt for you!" Her hands fisted as she fought the angry tears that wanted so desperately to fall as the embarrassment of his so-called rescue flooded back.

He stood slowly as if he wanted to go to her, but he stopped himself, unsure. “You weren't just another hunt, Alex. I just wanted you home, safe. I want you to be able to feel safe here. You deserve that. And you do matter. More than I can...I wish I was better at this. I'll be better.” 

She wanted it to be better too. She couldn’t keep living like this, tip-toeing around him wondering when he would finally give in to the violence inside him that no one else seemed to fear but her. She’d come into this room believing that the only way past this was through. Head-on. The little girl kept screaming inside her, but there was something she didn’t understand that Alex did. The power was hers. All she had to do was take it. 

“What…” Her voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear. “What would you do? If I was Tosca, or Edge, or Panda?”

He was taken aback by the shift in gears, considering her cautiously before answering. “You're not Tosca, or Edge, or Panda. I'd deal with each of them a little differently because their needs are different. With things between us as they've been, if you were ever to come to me for discipline-” he paused and seemed to take stock of her reaction before continuing. “We’d clear everything beforehand. No surprises. Nothing that made you feel unsafe. You'd know you have the option of stopping everything; calling Sam or Dean in to take over if anything got to be too much. After, I'd make sure you were okay - you wouldn't be left adrift. If you needed one of the boys for that instead of me, I'd understand, but I'd prefer it'd be me.” 

She took that in, let it mill over in her mind. “What you did when you found me, John, there was a whole lot of wrong there. And I’m not just talking about you smacking me. But...I was wrong too. Then, and by running away in the first place. I'm…” She searched for Sam’s words, believing now that they were true. “I’m sorry for selfishly hurting you through my careless actions. And I won’t say it doesn’t scare the crap out of me because it does. But I think for both of us to move forward, I have to accept your punishment.” She stepped forward on shaky legs and, with trembling hands, closed the door behind her. “The other girls trust you. Sam and Dean trust you with me. I want to give you a chance. But you only get one.”

John was taken completely aback, emotions warring across his face. A few stray tears formed. The first thing he settled on was a look of admiration, speaking almost as if to himself. “Damn, girl, are you sure about staying out of the field, 'cause I'm pretty sure you could stare down the devil himself without flinching.” 

Alex let out a dry laugh, nearly blushing. 

He took a deep breath and went on. “Thank you. You're under no obligation to give me a second chance, I know that. Definitely more than I expected so soon. I don't know if -” he studied her a moment and he sounded more sure when he continued. “You're telling me what you need, I get it. I'm not gonna insult you asking if you're sure. I accept your apology. I'll do it.”

“When we’re done here, and things go okay, then I’ll accept yours as well.”

He ducked his head briefly. “Well, then I guess I better make sure not to fuck this up. Will you sit?” He gestured to the bed and turned the chair, leaving a few feet in between them.

Her nerves crept up on her again, but this time no different than they would for the same conversation with Sam or Dean. Sitting on the bed, hands wringing in her lap, she found it impossible to avoid the trepidation before sentencing, whether she’d asked for it or not. 

John sat as she did. His gaze dropped to her hands briefly, but he didn't comment for now. He cleared his throat. “You came to me. I'm gonna assume you don't need some lecture about why we're here. You were Winchester enough to recognize what you did and want to make it right.” He looked to her for confirmation.

She looked up, meeting his gaze. “Yes, sir.”

He nodded once. “Okay. I don't want to do anything that will remind you of . . . anything. I think it's best we keep things simple. You can come over when we're ready to begin and just stand next to my knee. Is that alright?”

“Yes, sir.” Her voice was strong. 

“I -” He looked uncomfortable for a brief second before looking at her, resigned. “I know you already got it from Sam the other night, and I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you asked Dean for absolution, same as me. If we're doing this today, I'm gonna have you lift your skirt. That's my general rule anyway, but especially when I know you're already marked. I need to see what I'm doing; I'm not just hitting you until I feel better here.” His lip curled and she watched him fight for control, bring his focus back to her. “You're my one concern and I'm not gonna risk hurting you more than I intend. Okay?”

“Y...Yeah.” She hesitated. She didn’t like it. It made her uncomfortable. But she understood why he needed to. “It’s okay.”

He nodded again, moving on. “I was planning on using this.” He dug around in one of his desk drawers and pulled out an old fashioned clothes brush about ten inches long and a little over an inch wide. It's back was flat wood, coated with a glossy black material. 

“Interesting thing to keep in your drawer, John,” Alex smirked. She thought a little levity could do them both a little good. 

He looked at her like he was unsure whether to laugh, but his eyes sparkled and he smirked back at her. “Would you like to see it, or is that acceptable?”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“I'm planning to give you enough that you feel you paid for it, and that's all. Do you want a number?”

Her smile faded. “No.” Because despite what John thought, despite what she’d led him to believe, this wasn’t about her paying her debts. She’d already done that, with Sam, with Dean. She’d taken the pain she had caused, she’d felt the shame for her actions. John’s spanking wasn’t about any of that.

He didn’t know it, but this was his apology, not hers. 

He nodded. “Is there anything else you want to ask before we begin?”

She flashed back to her session with Sam. “How do I stop you? If I need to. I mean, _really_ need to.”

“Again, you came to me. You asked for this. I think I can trust that if you say stop, you're not just trying to get out of it. I'll stop. I also won't be holding you so you can't get away if you need to. Does that work for you?”

Did it work? It meant taking what he thought she’d earned without a fight. It meant trusting herself. It meant finding out if she could trust him. 

It meant doing exactly what she’d gone there to do.

“Yes, sir. That works for me.”

“Are you ready?”

Was she really ready to learn the truth? To learn if she was truly safe there? To learn if she was home? To learn if the Winchesters, all the Winchesters, were truly family. 

Was she ready to walk away if she had to?

Tears formed in her eyes and she blinked them back. “Ready.”

“Alright, then. Come here.” He made a small gesture toward his left knee. 

Alex got up and made her way to his side, standing between him and his desk facing the wall behind him. She placed one hand on the back of his chair. The other fidgeted nervously at her side. She looked down at him, watching him. Searching his eyes. But it wasn’t the same as it had been with Dean. There was no shame in this. This was protection. 

John circled her waist with his left arm, supporting her. As promised she could easily break free. He must have felt her gaze, or simply her nerves, because his eyes met hers. Whatever he saw must have convinced him she was still determined to go through with it. “Lift your skirt.”

With her free hand, she did, raising it above her waist, and he took hold of it. The cold air hit her skin and she knew he was looking, knew exactly what he would see. Sam had been thorough. Dean had been relentless. She lowered her arm back down, turning her focus to the wall and steeling herself for the first strike. It didn’t matter how hard he spanked. Even a tap would hurt at this point. 

He was silent a moment. Then a small noise told her he'd picked up the brush. She felt it rest against her skin through the fabric of her underwear. Then it lifted and fell for the first time with a muffled pop. 

It hurt, there was no denying that. There was no way of avoiding it. But she knew John Winchester. Had heard enough about him, had seen enough from him, to know he was holding back. 

The second and third came steadily, a couple seconds in between. She strengthened her grip on the chair but kept her eyes straight. His strikes were designed to sting and they did, but he wasn't just whaling on her. 

He continued, alternating cheeks as he made his way down. The unwavering easy pace together with the searing sting made it somehow more difficult to take, knowing exactly when each blow was going to land.

At some point she’d closed her eyes, concentrating on breathing with each stroke; inhaling on the strike, exhaling on the break, taking the pain in silence. She couldn’t let herself concentrate on it. That was a luxury she’d long ago learned to do without. She had to keep her focus on him. So when she thought she could do so without tears falling, she risked a glance, checking in. 

She knew the warning signs. Cold, hardened eyes. Increased strength in his grip. Lack of control. Satisfaction at her pain. 

She didn’t see those things. He had relaxed a little bit; less unsure of himself, more focused on his task. His eyes actually reminded her of Sam's sometimes. She could see regret at having to cause her pain, swirling with determination. She saw the flicker of sympathy on his face right before he picked up the tempo as he reached her sit spots. 

With John’s focus turned on already tender skin, individual smacks stopped mattering. Everything blurred into the whole and she grasped hold of the desk with her other hand just to keep control. Her head dropped and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. She couldn't truly think anymore. She could only feel and endure.

Eventually, the brush moved down, giving her thighs attention they did not need, coming down with blistering speed. 

The hot sting of her pain prickled at her eyes and it took all the strength she could muster, but she would shed no tears for what had to be done. There were only two possible endings here. He stopped when he realized she could take no more, or she had to make him stop.

Her grip on the chair grew stronger, her breath grew weaker, and just when she feared she’d have to be the one to call it, that he couldn’t recognize when he’d gone too far, he stopped. She could feel his eyes on her, judging where she stood. He rubbed her back gently, returning the brush to the desk. “We're almost done, Alex. We still okay?” 

Alex swallowed hard. She couldn’t take much more, but with his tender touch on her back and the care in his voice, she began to believe she could trust him. “Yes, sir,” she whispered. 

She could feel his hand rest atop her panties for just a moment before it disappeared. Knowing didn’t quell her nerves before his hand came down, a hand smaller than Sam’s but thicker than Dean’s, spanking her. He used a slow rhythm and randomly placed light slaps that wouldn't have hurt at all if it hadn't been for all she had already taken. After winding down for about a minute he finished with two sharp smacks to her sit spots, and one soft brush of his hand across her throbbing bottom. Slowly, he loosened his embrace around her waist, letting her skirt fall back into place. She felt the edges brush against her skin and even the soft fabric did her no favors. Looking away from him as he stood, she quickly wiped away the trace of unshed tears. 

He took hold of her gently, giving her every opportunity to step away, but the truth was, she just didn’t have the energy. She looked at him and his eyes sparkled at her, seeming full of a new respect. “A true Winchester.” He rubbed her shoulder. “It's over, kid.” He looked into her face searchingly. “Is, is this okay? Do you want to get off your feet?” 

“No, no sir,” she whispered. Her head almost felt like it was in a fog. Like she had gone to sleep in one reality, only to wake up in another. “I’m alright.”

He seemed to catch some hint of her disoriented state, his grip around her became a little more firm, not constricting, but supporting her. He muttered fondly, “I swear, you and Dean are cut from the same stubborn ass cloth.”

She couldn’t help but smile to herself. Being compared to Dean was just about the biggest compliment she could get and to hear it from John Winchester...it jump started the blood pumping through her veins again.

“Come on over here.” He led her to the bed, sitting so they were eye to eye. He gingerly brushed a wisp of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Take a minute; get your bearings. I'd go get you some water, but I don't want you to fall over. Plus . . . I don't wanna leave you just yet.”

“It’s okay,” she said, the fog lifting from her eyes. She blinked and focused on him. He looked...different. “I’m okay, really.”

“I don't know that you've ever let me hold you before,” he realized. His voice was soft but resolute. “I want that privilege. I want to be someone you know you can trust.” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I promise, Alex, I'll do my damndest not to do anything stupid enough to lose it forever. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren't safe in your own home. And I’m sorry I didn’t know how to listen when you tried to tell me. I promise to always try to listen from now on.”

“I forgive you, John Winchester.” Alex blinked watery eyes. “And I promise I’ll try harder too. There’ve been times, too many, when I’ve been disrespectful toward you. Because I knew I could be. I knew I could get away with it. Because I was taking my anger at...someone else...out on you. And I know the girls resent it. I...I don’t want to do that anymore. So in those circumstances, I...I give you permission. As long as I can trust you. Let’s call that step one. My Christmas present to you,” she added with a tiny teasing smile. 

John's mouth opened and closed again before he broke into an answering grin, “Well, I can't say I was expecting this conversation to go the way it has. Thank you.” His eyes were leaking, too. “As long as you know you always have the right to speak up if something's scaring you or reminding you of - before. I don't want you to take something like that just because you think you need to prove you can.”

She frowned slightly. She couldn’t promise him she would, but… “I know I can, sir.” 

"Good. People like you and Dean, are already walking a fine line between bravado and . . . whatever it is that would possess you to ask for a third tanning in a row cause you were still feeling like you needed to pay for it for it to be over. . .” Alex looked away, but not before she could see comprehension flicker across John's face. “This was your way of testing me out, seeing if you could trust me.” She turned back to him, not ashamed of what she’d done, and he studied her for a moment, amusement with a hint of fond exasperation won out. “You didn't think of waiting till your ass looked a little less like a paint by numbers?”

But Alex didn’t share his smile. “I’d squared things with Sam. Dean. The girls. But, as much as it would have killed me to go, I couldn’t stay here with things how they’ve been between you and me. Especially after…” That little girl inside her told her to turn away. But instead, Alex fixed him with a penetrating stare. “You scared me. You made me question Sam. Made me question myself. I couldn’t stay if I couldn’t trust you. Respect you. There was only one way, and it couldn’t wait.”

She could feel his hands trembling where they still rested on her back and shoulder. His voice was almost too low for her to catch. “No.” He cleared his throat and repeated it louder, “No, Alex. I would have left. I wouldn't have been welcome here if I had run you off-”

“Yes. You would have. You’re their dad. Good or bad, Sam and Dean love you more than anything. And they should. I wouldn’t have wanted them to put me before you. And right before Christmas? Do to them what…” No. She wasn’t going to dwell on the past anymore. “Kids deserve to have their parents with them for Christmas. I’d never let them give that up for me.”

He tried to interject, to argue, but he stopped and forced himself to look at her. “You deserve a family and a home. And you got it, kid, I promise you. God, even thinking that I could have fucked that up for you. I don't know how to -” 

He huffed a breath and rubbed the back of his head, much like Dean did when he was experiencing an emotion he couldn't express with words. His eyes locked onto hers then, and he stood, keeping one hand on her back. “Would . . . can I hug you?”

“Sure,” she said. He took her in his arms. It felt a bit strange, but she thought it was maybe something she could get used to. “I umm…” She pulled back, looking up at him. “I think we better show our faces out there. Sam and Dean I’m sure are chomping at the bit to make sure we’re both okay.”

He smiled and released her. “I don't doubt it. You go along, I'll be out in a few minutes.”

She turned first to look in the mirror. In the reflection, she could see John putting an unnecessary amount of focus into returning the brush to the drawer. He dashed his hand across his face when he thought she wasn't paying attention. She wiped at her own eyes and fixed her hair as best she could. Then she took a deep breath and opened the door. 

Alex only made it a few steps before stopping short. Dean was leaning against the wall, his face unreadable. He slowly straightened and crossed his arms, looking her up and down. 

She held her breath under his gaze, trying to decipher the look in his eye. But she couldn’t. He’d read the letter. Probably heard what she’d allowed John to do. She didn’t know if she was in trouble or not, but she swallowed her emotions and clasped her hands behind her. She’d accept it if she was. “Dean,” she said. 

He opened his arms to her. “Come here.”

She hesitated for only a second before she stepped forward, and nearly melted into his arms.

His hold was firm, almost too tight. She could feel the slight tremors in his muscles that gave away how worried he'd been. His breathing was shaky too. After a moment he spoke, his voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

She realized she was shaking as well, her body reeling, not from the spanking itself, but from holding herself together as she’d faced her past, her present, and her future all at once. But there in Dean’s arms, she realized that she didn’t have to face any of it alone anymore. “Yeah,” she said, her voice filled with her own surprise. “Yeah, I am.”

A relieved exhale rippled through him. He pulled back just enough to look at her again; convince himself it was true. He touched her face, pretending he was pushing her hair back before looking over her shoulder into John’s room. She couldn't see Dean’s expression, but when he looked down at her again he had the beginnings of a smile on his face. “Well. Good.”

He pulled her in for another hug and his low murmur came right against her ear. “We _will_ be discussing that note you left - later.” 

Her heart skipped a beat. “Yes, sir.”

He kissed the top of her head and maneuvered her so they were side by side with his arm around her waist supporting her. John was standing in the doorway of his room. He cleared his throat, his words addressed to Dean, but his eyes never leaving Alex's. “You’ve got a brave girl there, Dean. Don’t let her go.”

The grip on her arm slackened and for a moment Alex's heart stopped beating but then she felt Dean's arm tighten around her. “I don't plan on it,” he said, the resolve in his voice setting her heart beating once more. 

"I . . . I accept your apology, from before. I forgive you, Dad.” Dean paused and his voice became cold steel. “Don't let it happen again.”

John's eyebrows raised and his gaze moved up to meet his son's. After a moment he nodded, once. 

Alex shivered at the exchange. 

Dean relaxed and changed the subject. “We're wanted in the war room. Sam's called a family meeting, and those have been going so well lately, we wouldn't want to miss it.” He looked down at Alex and winked.

“I’m ready if you guys are. As long as I don’t have to sit,” she smirked. 

They both chuckled and Dean turned to guide her toward the war room, leaving John to follow. 

When they got there, everyone was gathered round the tree; Edge and Tosca sitting to the right of it, Sam hugging Panda to his chest, the two standing, grinning, between the tree and the table. 

They were silent though, all of them, as the three approached. Dean pushed Alex ahead slightly and that’s when she saw it, front and center on a thick branch - the Sugar Plum Fairy and Clara - a long ago familiar scene.

She turned back, her eyes wide. “Dean, did you-”

But Dean shook his head and looked up and over her. She followed his gaze, to Sam.

“We know you haven’t always felt like you belonged here, but we wanted you to know that you do. So...Panda and I...we went on a little hunt, to bring you a piece of home. We only hung one. The rest are in there…” He nodded toward the table and she noticed for the first time a new box among the empty ones the girls had picked clean. “You can put them up if you want or just keep them here, in your room or in storage. We just...we thought they belonged here with you.”

Alex couldn’t believe it. If they’d asked her, she would have said no, afraid of how much it would hurt. But just knowing they were here, seeing her mother’s favorite on the tree...he was right. It just made her feel a little more like she belonged.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice choked, her eyes blurring with tears. Was this what it was like to feel loved? To have a family? To be home? If it was, she couldn’t imagine ever running again. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

And suddenly she was surrounded - Panda first, then Sam, Edge, Tosca, Dean, all hugging her, hugging each other. She caught John’s eye, as he kept a step back. But she reached out her hand, inviting him in. 

There was still so much to resolve, to learn, to discover. But she was home. They all were. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading.
> 
> Panda and Alex have hours and thousands Upon thousands of words written for the sequel, “My Girl,” but we need to rewrite the beginning after changing the end to Piece of Home. We hope to do it soon, of course, but all too often life gets in the way. But I promise, we will be back. Alex and Dean will be back. And Sam and Panda will be back. :)


End file.
